


Growth

by TimidTurnip



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Blood and Gore, Eventual Smut, First Kiss, Identity Reveal, Loss of Virginity, M/M, No Underage Sex, Peter Parker is a Mess, Peter Parker is new to being Spider-man, Peter is bad at feelings, Protective Wade Wilson, Size Difference, Size Kink, Slow Burn, Underage Kissing, Wade is worse at feelings, pinning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-09-26 22:33:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20397229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimidTurnip/pseuds/TimidTurnip
Summary: Running into a katana-wielding maniac leaves Peter with doubts about what this superhero gig really entails. He certainly doesn't expect the way his body reacts as if on instinct to the mere presence of Deadpool or to have him on his mind at every moment of the day. Doesn’t know what to do with the fact the he finds Deadpool charming, funny and weirdly knowledgeable about wildlife. Before he realizes it, the next year of his life is spent trying to summon the courage to make the simplest of touches happen between them while hanging out on park benches. If he had some experience wooing maybe it wouldn't be so difficult, or maybe it's just that hard to win over a mercenary as notorious as Deadpool. Or Maybe he just needs to grow up.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been such a joy to write, I would ask that you mind the tags though. This fic does start with Peter at 16. I am done writing everything and will be posting as I go through and edit. Thanks to DroptheBeet, Voidbean, and HeraZ for cheereading, alpha and betaing. I probably would have given up without you.

There is  _ so  _ much blood. It runs down Peter’s thigh, his palms slick with it as he tries to apply pressure to the wound. In the year that Peter has been wearing the Spider-Man suit he has never come across anyone that can keep up with his inhuman speed. It’s hard to believe that some weirdo with swords is the first to land such a blow, or several in this case.

Being attacked like that had Peter feeling manic and he might have retaliated a little too harshly. It’s not often he lets his full strength out, and he definitely heard a crack when his assailant hit the bricks of the wall. Peter should really be going over to check if he is even still breathing. 

Only when he looks up and across the alley the red and black of the man’s suit is nowhere to be seen. 

Which,  _ how _ ? 

The sound of shuffling feet from the mouth of the alley has Peter whipping his head around so fast it makes his head spin. The street lamps illuminate the man from behind making him seem to fill the entire width of the alley. The man shuffles nervously from foot to foot, an act that seems at odds with the man’s imposing stature. Peter’s not sure why he would have come back.  _ Not to finish the job, _ he hopes. Having already managed to save whomever the man had been attempting to kill, Peter feels it might be best to make a run for it. He’s in no condition to keep fighting.

Before he can manage to shoot a web, the man hurriedly shouts out “Wait!”

Peter looks back over at the man, his arm outstretched with a plastic bag clutched in his hand. How long had Peter been standing alone in the alley?

“Bandages!”

Peter blinks, the word not really registering in his brain. He lowers his arm all the same though.

“Your leg is really bleeding there.” The words come out in a flurry, saying them so fast it’s hard to follow. “I didn’t mean to get you so deep! It’s not easy holding back, but I really respect you! I mean, you’re Spider-Man! What’s not to love? I gotta say you kinda screwed me here. It’s gonna take forever to find that rapist pig again, but you didn’t know! But now you do, so don’t get in the way of Daddy’s work again, okay? Now you really should let me take a look at that. Just because I don’t ever need first-aid doesn’t mean I don’t know a thing or two.”

“What?” Peter croaks out.  _ Who even is this guy? _ Peter's mouth feels dry, his words sounding scratchy. “Who offers to patch up someone they’d just stabbed ten minutes ago?”

The man's demeanor brightens as he puffs out his chest and proudly proclaims himself “Just your friendly neighborhood Deadpool.”

“Nothing about you was friendly.” The name rings a bell though. Peter is certain Deadpool is not some villain but also certainly no hero. 

“I can be friendly.” Deadpool leers as he thrusts his hips out. 

Peter's face turns red under the mask and he chooses to ignore the comment. Peter tactfully changes the subject and asks, “was that guy really a rapist?” 

“Yeah,” Deadpool answers, voice having gone serious. “Don't worry, he won't be able to hide from me for long. It’s kinda what I do.”

A shiver runs down Peter's spine, reminding him again that the man in front of him is deadly. He presses down harder on his thigh, wincing when he does. Deadpool's eyes lock onto the movement as he takes careful steps to close the distance between them.

“You really should let me take a look,” Deadpool says like Peter is some sort of wild animal he doesn't want to spook. It's kind of insulting. 

Despite feeling like Deadpool is not the sort of person one should take their eyes off of, Peter finds himself staring up at the narrow patch of sky visible. How does he end up in these situations? It's not like he can waltz into a hospital to get looked at, they would call his Aunt. There would be questions. A defeated sigh escapes him, “well get over here and fix up your handiwork. This is your fault after all.” 

In the blink of an eye Deadpool has dropped down to his knees in front of Peter. He brushes back Peter's hand, and opens a pack of disinfectant wipes. He tears the rip in his suit wider before gently dabbing at the cut. It stings, and Peter has to fight the natural response to flinch away from the contact. 

Deadpool makes a thoughtful sounding hum. “Looks like you're going to need some stitches. I don't know about you, but personally I don't find dirty alleys the best place to get stitched up.”

“I don’t need stitches,” Peter says as a gush of blood flows from the wound, betraying his words. 

Deadpool’s laugh is deep and booming, echoing down the length of the alley. “I’m no Doctor but I think we should work on keeping your blood  _ inside _ of you.”

“As recommended by nine out of ten Doctors.” Peter sighs in defeat, “Alright, I guess you can stitch me up.”

“I could do a better job if you followed me into the bathroom of the convenience store around the corner.” The plastic of the bag crinkles as Deadpool digs around in it before he pulls out a roll of bandages. He tightly wraps the entire width of Peter’s thigh, fingers brushing along the inner part with each pass. 

Peter is not sure he does a good job masking the way his breath hitches. This is not how he imagined the first time he would have someone down on their knees in front of him. Of  _ course  _ the first time someone runs their hands along Peter’s thigh it’s because he’s injured. Not because they want to. Deadpool finishes up quickly, and Peter can’t decide if that’s a relief or not. Before he even has the chance, Deadpool is standing up and  _ oh. _ He is very large. This close, Peter can tell that the man easily has seven inches on him. The top of Peter’s head just reaches the bottom of the other man’s chin. Deadpool is almost more than twice as wide across and this close he blocks everything from sight. Deadpool takes up every inch of space around him, and Peter can’t help the step back he takes that has him connecting with wall behind him. 

“Can you walk?” Deadpool asks. 

It takes Peter a moment to remember that Deadpool wanted him to follow him somewhere better suited for getting stitches, not that a convenience store bathroom is much cleaner. It will have better lighting though. 

Peter pushes past the bulk of the man in front of him. “Of course I can walk, it’s not like you managed to cut my leg off. You’re not that good.”

There’s a booming laugh from Deadpool that makes Peter’s insides squirm. “I could never deprive the world of such perfect legs. Lead the way, Spidey.”

Peter rushes out of the alley hoping to put some distance between them, but Deadpool is hot on his heels, matching Peter’s pace step for step. 

True to his word there is a convenience store just around the corner. No one gives them any notice past the cursory glance when they enter, as if Spider-man just always waltzes in. They make their way through the store to the back, and once they are in the washroom Deadpool locks the door behind them. Which  _ wow _ , another edition of great life choices brought to you by Peter Parker. Locked in a room with Deadpool. There are no windows. If Peter wants out, he has to get past Deadpool. 

“You should take your pants off.”

It takes Peter a second to reboot his brain before responding, “What! No. What?”

Deadpool leans back against the door, radiating smugness. “Don’t worry cutey, your virtue is safe. I just thought you wouldn’t want me tearing your suit up any more than I already have so that I can stitch you up.” His head tilts to the side as he makes a show of looking Peter up and down. “That is why we came in here, right?”

“You can just tear the suit. I have to fix it up anyways,” Peter grumbles out, unable to make eye contact as he does. “Also, I’m not cute. Puppies are cute.”

“Oh, you are definitely cute, but I can hold off on the comments till you’re patched up, if it helps. Now hop up on the counter so I can get a good look at that gorgeous thigh of yours.” 

Peter can’t help but sigh as he hops up onto the small counter area next to the sink. He barely has any time to balance himself before Deadpool is there crowding into his space. With the way Deadpool hunches forwards, it makes Peter feel like the man is curled around him. Fingers brush along Peter’s knee, maneuvering his leg with the barest of touches. Once it’s in a position to Deadpool’s liking, the bandages are removed with such care that it almost makes Peter feel like something precious. Which is stupid. The bandages are mostly soaked through already, but instead of tossing them in the garbage, Deadpool empties the contents of the plastic bag into the sink. He carefully moves the bandages into the bag. 

Picking up on the unasked question, Deadpool answers, “We’ll burn it later. You shouldn’t leave DNA around for people to steal. Trust me on that one.” 

Peter just makes a soft hum in the affirmative, having to take his word for it. It sounds like reasonable advice. 

Deadpool takes great care in cleaning out the cut on Peter’s leg. Now that there isn’t a large pool of blood blocking his view, Peter can see just how deep the cut goes. It runs about three inches across the upper top left thigh along the outside. The cut flares open, and Peter honestly can’t stomach the fact that he can see the tissue inside. He has to look away after a glance. A bottle of pills is shoved into his hand.

“You should take a couple, it’ll help.”

The label tells him that it is nothing more than some ibuprofen. The seal is unbroken so Peter trusts the contents and swallows four. It usually takes more than twice the recommended dosage for him to feel anything. Deadpool makes no comment about the extra pills as he readies a needles under the flame of a lighter. He cleans the needle off with some alcohol wipes and threads the needle effortlessly. 

“You probably don’t want to watch this,” is the only warning Peter gets before Deadpool clutches his thigh, holding it down as the needle pierces the skin. It takes everything for Peter not to kick at Deadpool and sit still. He can’t help but track Deadpool’s movements from the corner of his eyes. His hand moves with the same precision as when it was wielding one the dual blades strapped to his back. 

“You actually seem to know what you are doing. Where did you learn to do this?” Peter asks, trying to distract himself from the sensation of the needle sliding into him. The edge of the counter cracks with the way he clutches at it.

Fingers never faltering, steady in their rhythm, Deadpool answers “Army.  _ Well _ , special ops. Those guys really want you to be able to take care of yourself. Get the job done at all costs. Injured? Fix it up and finish the job. Every time. It’s been a while since I’ve had to do this though, nice to know the muscle memory is still there. I’ve forgotten a lot of things. Truly. In this moment though, the fact that I remember how to do this means everything.”

Deadpool finishes the last stitch and knots the end. Deadpool glances up at Peter to give the widest grin, his mask stretching across his face as he makes a little tada motion with his hands to showcase his handiwork. The stitches are evenly spaced, each one looking identical to the one before it. They look impeccable.

“It looks good?” Peter is only guessing though, having never needed stitches before this moment. 

“Anything for you, Spidey.” Deadpool uses one more of the wipes along the top of the stitches before carefully laying some gauze down. He does his best to tape the edges down under Peter’s suit, lifting the edges as he goes. “I promise this won’t happen again. I was just reacting when you attacked. Took me a minute to register that it was my idol throwing the punches.”

“Idol?” Peter repeats the word back dumbly, not really sure if he heard correctly. How could the lethal man standing before him think such a thing? 

The pads of Deadpool’s finger brush gently along the edge of the bandage on Peter’s thigh. The contact sends a shiver up Peter’s spine. There is something vastly different to the way his fingers are gliding along Peter’s skin than how it felt when he was applying first aid. There’s a hitch in Peter’s breath as Deadpool’s fingers move to the top of his thigh. Peter’s thighs drop open further in invitation to accommodate the size of Deadpool’s hand.

“How could I not have such a noble little spider as my idol? You help everyone in need. It’s…” His voice goes up in a breathy gasp as his fingers move to the inner part of Peter’s thigh. 

“I’m not all that.” Peter’s voice shakes, his nerves on edge with the awareness that he has no idea what the hell he is doing. Where Deadpool currently has his hand? No one has touched before. Ever. Peter is very much aware of where his blood is currently heading, and that is all sorts of embarrassing and highly confusing. He’s glad that his suit has a cup built in, though he had not considered it for this purpose. “I just have a lot of free time.”

Deadpool laughs, his fingers tightening as he wheezes out a last chuckle. “You're all banged up, and yet all I want is to press you up against a wall and add to the collection of bruises you're sporting. You're so itsy bitsy I wouldn't even have to strain to keep you there.”

One of Deadpool's thighs slots between Peter's legs, and he can practically feel his brain power down. His brain to mouth filter is practically non-existent on a good day, so it shouldn't be a surprise when he says “I can stick to walls, of course you wouldn't have to strain.” 

The groan Deadpool lets out at the comment is going to feature in every fantasy Peter is going to have from this moment going forwards. It's not really fair. In a flash, Peter is being tugged forwards by his hips so he is perched on the very edge of the counter. 

“Is this okay?” Deadpool whispers, as he presses his masked face along the side of Peter's neck. 

Which is not something Peter knows how to answer. This situation is a first for him. He's not even sure if he is attracted to guys or just caught up in the moment. And seriously, what a moment it is. 

“I…” Peter hesitates for a moment as he contemplates the feeling of strong hands on his hips, and the towering bulk of masculinity in front of him. Wonders what it would be like if Deadpool pushes up their masks so they can kiss. Peter must be unhinged to be thinking of having his first kiss in a dirty convenience store bathroom with a man who stabbed him. Fear mixed with common sense wins out, and he quietly mutters “I need to get home.”

There is no hesitation as Deadpool respects Peter's wishes, and steps back to create some distance between them. Peter slides off the counter now that no one is holding him up. His legs wobble when they hit the ground.

“You should make sure to clean the rest of your cuts. Sorry again! Try to keep those stitches clean and dry though,” Deadpool lectures, bouncing on the balls of his feet with restless energy. 

“Wouldn't want to ruin all your hard work, Doctor Deadpool,” Peter deadpans as he makes a final inspection of his thigh. 

“Shit, yeah, I can be your Doctor. I give the best check ups. Want me to take your temperature?” Deadpool gushes, He looks like he’s about to bounce off the walls with glee. “I already got the outfit and stethoscope.” 

The image of Deadpool dressed up in a white coat leaning over to listen to his heartbeat comes violently to Peter’s mind’s eye. He shakes his head to try and dislodge the image, his face heating under the mask. A stethoscope wouldn’t even be necessary with how loudly his heart is thumping away in his chest. All the man would have to do is lean in close. The thought has Peter darting his tongue out to wet his lips and yup, he seriously needs to get out of here. 

Clearing his throat, Peter makes a gesture to the door. “I should leave.”

“Yes, sorry, you said that!” Deadpool apologizes as he moves out of the way. “Don’t worry about here. I’ll do the clean up.” 

Peter shuffles around the larger man in an awkward little dance as he tries his best not to make any further physical contact. He opens the door, and mumbles out some gratitude for the stitches (even if they were Deadpool’s fault) before wasting no time in making his way out of the store and onto the street. One moment he is on the street, and the next he is climbing in through his bedroom window, having webbed himself home on autopilot. In much the same way, he finds himself out of his suit cleaning the last few cuts (nothing deeper than a paper cut) and next laying in bed attempting to sleep.

The feeling of strong fingers ghosting along his thighs plague his thoughts, though it’s the last thing he wants to have on his mind. He should be thinking about the guy he saved, who could possibly be a rapist if Deadpool is to be believed. Which Peter desperately wants to do, even if it seems ill advised. He should be thinking about how he can make amends, and if he can track the guy down to turn him in. Maybe he should be doing research on who Deadpool even is, what sort of guy he is. If he is the sort of man that can be trusted.

Failing all that, Peter feels he should be thinking about the way MJ had looked today. The way her smile lightens up the room. How gorgeous and perfect she is. 

Instead, it’s how those fingers had felt when they brushed along the inner part of Peter’s thigh. His own fingers glide along the same spot in an attempt to recreate the feeling. It would have taken no effort for Deadpool to just run his fingers a little higher to cup Peter through his suit. Even sitting up on the counter, Deadpool towered over him. He could so easily have engulfed Peter. Pushed Peter up against the wall like he said he would. 

It doesn’t even seem like a conscious decision when Peter’s hand moves up and he cups himself through his boxers, bucking up into his palm. It would have been so easy for Deadpool to take. Peter doesn’t think he wants that, but still. The idea of it happening has him pushing up into his palm again, and coming in a mess in his boxers embarrassingly quick.

It’s not something he’s proud of doing. It’s probably something he’s going to repress the hell out of. He doesn’t have time to be questioning his sexuality. Repression is a really solid plan, and actually has Peter relaxing enough to drift off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the first chapter and stick around for the rest, it's gonna be a fun ride~
> 
> Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://thetimidturnip.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter wants to make things right and tracks down Deadpool.

The morning does not bring a sense of clarity; instead it brings shame. No big deal, Peter will just add it to the growing pile he has. He renews his conviction to repress the hell out it, which works out great. He may spend the day in a dazed state, but it’s not really any different than any other day, so no one at school questions it. The problem with trying to track down the man that got away is that Peter never got a good look at his face, and doesn’t have any clue what his name could be. There is no way for him to track the guy down. 

What he can do though, is help Deadpool track the guy down again. Only that would mean he would need to see Deadpool again, which is not something Peter thinks he can handle. He shifts in his chair, aware that he is growing hard in the middle of (Peter has to look up at the board) chemistry class.  _ Not the place Parker _ , he thinks to himself as he imagines anything and everything gross he can think of. 

The thing is, Peter doesn’t think he can live with the fact that he let a rapist escape. It’s the sort of thing that will haunt him for life if he doesn’t get some sort of resolution on the matter. The Deadpool thing is just crazy teenage hormones, nothing more. Peter can pull it together for this. Repress, repress, and repress. That is the key to getting through this.

When the last bell finally goes off, Peter rushes out the door faster than he would have been able to pre-bite. He feels giddy with anticipation when he slips into a back alley to pull out his suit, and slide it on. 

The tears in his suit from last night are still there, but at least it is mostly clean. Most of the blood is gone thanks to him having taken the time to rinse it out in the sink with some detergent. He is gonna have to figure out something to wash out the blood stain on his thigh more thoroughly, there was too much blood soaked into the area for a rinse to get out. Blood stains on his suit are not something he has had to worry about before now.

The first place he heads is the alley he had met Deadpool the night before. There is nothing of note, no clues to follow. It looks like every other alley for miles around. Still, if Deadpool tracked the guy here, then perhaps he will come looking in the vicinity for the guy again?

It is honestly the best Peter has to go on.

It takes him four gruelling hours to find Deadpool. Even then, it's when he was on his way home that he spots the red and black of the man's suit. He’s arguing with a hotdog vendor. Not how he pictured finding him, but all the same Peter swings over to perch on top of the nearest street lamp. From there he can make out Deadpool’s tense posture as he makes aggressive gestures, and rants about how the guy is selling too small of a hotdog for the size of the bun.

“It's all bread, and an insult to hotdogs everywhere.”

Peter can't hold back his laughter at the situation, the sound instantly drawing Deadpool's gaze.

“Spidey! Baby boy!” Deadpool squeals. The hotdog gets tossed out of his hand when he waves both arms in greeting. “I was scared I would never see your perfect form again.” 

“That’s a stupid thing to say,” Peter mumbles, blushing. He can’t help the pleased feeling at the thought that Deadpool is happy to see him. That he likes the way Peter looks. Which nope, can’t go down that road _ . Repress those thoughts, Peter. _

“So what has you swinging by?” Deadpool chuckles.

Peter slides off of the lampost, landing beside Deadpool in a crouch. He straightens out, and has to crane his neck back to look at Deadpool’s face. They are about a hand’s width apart, which is really too close for Peter’s sanity, so he takes a large step back. It does not go unnoticed by Deadpool who seems to take it as a cue to also take a step back. 

Feeling self-conscious, Peter rubs at the back of his neck. Did he make a mistake tracking down Deadpool? “I was hoping I could help you with tracking down the guy from yesterday?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to help with that, cutey.” 

“Cute? It’s the spider theme, right?” 

Deadpool snorts out a laugh. “Seriously, you don’t want to help me with this. It’s probably gonna get messy.” 

“I can handle myself. I handled you yesterday didn’t I?” Peter retorts, crossing his arms in annoyance. 

“I’m pretty sure that part was a fantasy I had after I got home.” There is a suggestive tone in Deadpool’s voice that Peter is not sure what to do with. 

Peter has to look away from Deadpool, it’s easier to find his words when he isn’t looking right at the large expanse of his shoulders. Peter has to do his best not to stutter. “You know what I meant. I can help bring this guy in.”

There is a shift in Deadpool’s stance, the only warning Peter has before he catches Deadpool turning and walking the other way down the street. Peter quickly follows after him.

His tone is serious, having lost the previous playfulness from before. “Bring him in? That’s… yeah. I mean if Spider-man wants to help me bring him in. Just so long as you let me take him myself I think I can handle that.”

Peter finds himself nodding in agreement. “Yeah of course. I don’t want to step on your toes. I just wanted to help make it up to you.” 

Deadpool glances over at him. “I can think of better ways.”

“That option is not on the table,” Peter squeaks out.

“Shame,” Deadpool says. “Would have been way more fun.” 

Swallowing, Peter takes a moment to contemplate the offer. Would it be fun? Why does Deadpool have to be so suggestive? Peter pinches his leg hard in an attempt to pull himself back together. It shouldn’t be so difficult to keep his brain on track; it certainly hasn’t been before now. 

“So,” Peter says in an attempt to redirect his thoughts. “How do we find this guy?”

“He called up his sister earlier today looking for a place to crash.”

“What, seriously? How did you find that out?” Peter inquires. 

“Easy to get access to someones phone if you know the right people,” Deadpool replies cheerfully, giving Peter a little finger gun and making a ‘pow pow’ sound as he does. It’s not at all endearing. 

“So where does his sister live?” 

Suddenly coming to a stop, Deadpool open his arms wide and gesture to the building beside them. “Why right here!” He leans in close, bringing his hand up to the side of his mouth in a stage whisper. “Convenient, eh?”

The building they are stopped in front of is an older style apartment building, four stories, and has definitely seen better days. Deadpool strolls up to the doors, and hardly glances at the building directory before hitting the buzzer for the intercom. It takes a moment for someone to answer, a terse sounding man that just hollers “What!?”

“Yeah I’ve got a package I need ya to sign for,” Deadpools bellows back in an oddly high pitched nasally voice. 

It takes everything in Peter not to laugh at how it sounds. 

The man yells back at them through the intercom that he didn’t order anything. Deadpool repeats the process on a much nicer sounding individual that buzzes them into the building. They quickly make their way in and Deadpool holds his hand up in expectation of a high five. Peter reluctantly reciprocates. 

They take the stairs up three flights. Deadpool leads them down the hallway and stops in front of the fourth door on the left, apartment 308. The three is tilted to the left ever so slightly. 

Deadpool raps on the door with his knuckles to a tune Peter is unfamiliar with. Whatever the tune is happens to be the correct one because it only takes a moment for the door to crack open. Deadpool pushes it the rest of the way open, and makes his way into the apartment. The inside of the apartment is an odd assortment of furniture that doesn’t match. Every surface is scattered with odds and ends, giving a chaotic feeling to the place. Peter closes the door behind himself. When he turns back, Deadpool has the man pushed on the floor, one of his katanas unsheathed and pointed at the man’s throat. 

“Heya, Rodger,” Deadpool growls, pressing the blade in closer so it glides along the side of the man’s neck. 

That’s all it takes to get Rodger shaking and letting out a pitiful sob. “I didn’t do what those dumb bitches say!” He pleads. 

The blade presses into skin. There is a thin trail of blood blooming across the blade. “Funny, I think I’m gonna trust the girls on this one. Hard to fake those kind of injuries.” 

“It’s their fucking job!” Rodger spits out. His eyes are wide, darting around the room as if he’ll notice some form of escape. Not likely. Deadpool has a singular focus that makes it very easy for Peter to believe that this man managed to land several hits on him. 

“A girl has the right to say no, no matter the situation. Just because you threw money at them after the fact doesn’t mean squat.” Deadpool kicks at the guys stomach, making the man flinch in on himself. “You’ll be happy to know they put the money to good use though. They used it to call me in on the job.”

“Please, please,” Rodger begs. “If it’s about money, I can get you money.” He reaches for his pockets, but Deadpool kicks his hand away.

“No, this one is about how I’m gonna make you cry like you made  _ them _ cry before I rip your dick off, and shove it down your fucking throat.”

“What?” Peter balks, stepping in closer, and laying his hand on the arm Deadpool is holding the katana with. “What about taking him to the cops?”

Peter doesn’t expect the laughter he hears from Rodger. “Deadpool doesn’t work with the cops. He’s a killer.”

A killer? The word steals Peter’s breath. A killer. He tries to find some falsehood in the statement, but Deadpool gives no indication that there is any. 

“You’re not a killer though, are you Spider-man?” Rodger tries, desperation in his voice. 

“No.” Peter keeps his focus on Deadpool, squeezing his arm ever so slightly, and giving it a gentle tug away from Rodger. “I’m really not.”

“Spider-man, what do you think those girls did after this man assaulted them? No one listened. They’re just whores, so who cares? Do you think this man is going to stop with them? Or that it was even just the three that contacted me?”

“It’s not our place to take someone’s life.” Peter does his best not to let his voice shakes as he tugs a little more forcefully, the katana coming away from Roders neck. “Please, Deadpool. This isn’t what… this isn’t what you said we’d do.”

It’s the ‘please’ that finally gets Deadpool’s attention. He turns away from Rodger. “Maybe it’s not our place, but maybe those girls should have a say, and this is what they want. To know it can’t happen again to them or their friends. Don’t they deserve that?” 

That’s not something Peter ever considered, but he can’t help the feeling inside him that says all form of killing is wrong. That they do not have the right to take a life no matter the circumstances. “We can find another way.”

The way Deadpool looks down at Peter makes him feel as if, for a moment, Deadpool believes him. It’s ruined when an alarm sounds in Peter’s head, screaming that something is wrong in the room. Despite the warning, he’s not fast enough to get Deadpool out of the way in time as a bullet pierces the man’s gut. Blood splatters the floor and Peter screams. In a blink he has the gun that was in Rodger’s hand webbed to the wall behind him. Next he webs the man’s hands to the floor, then his legs. Peter is so engrossed in making sure Rodger can’t move that he doesn’t notice Deadpool draw his gun. He  _ does _ notice when the trigger is pulled. 

His ears ring, the gun having been too close. There are bits of brain scattered across the floor. Let it be noted that Deadpool is a good shot, because he got the guy right between the eyes. Peter might throw up. The scene is gruesome, and he shuts his eyes tightly. Not that it does any good. The image is not something he will forget anytime soon, if ever. It takes Peter a minute to register that Deadpool is talking, and it takes another for him to register what the words mean.

“-be here soon, you gotta breathe. Just look away and breathe. Seriously, we gotta go. The cops are going to be here soon.” Deadpool keeps making small movements towards Peter that he aborts part way through, like he’s afraid to touch. 

The prompt to breathe has Peter taking a giant lungful of air. He hadn’t realised that he had been holding his breath. He focuses on Deadpool, unwilling to look back at the dead body...which brings him back to the fact that Deadpool was just  _ shot _ . 

“How are you still standing?” Peter rushes forwards, hands reaching for the blood stain on Deadpool’s suit.

“I’m fine,” Deadpool utters. His hands brace Peter’s shoulders. “Spidey, I’m fine.”

“You were  _ shot _ ! How can you be fine?” Peter rasps, he finds the edges of the suit around the wound, and pulls it back to get a better look. When he does, he finds no wound. “How?” Peter asks, brushing some of the blood away with his thumb.

“I can heal any wound. It’s sort of my thing.” 

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Peter doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around Deadpool and draw him into a hug. It takes a moment for Deadpool to reciprocate, but when he does he pulls Peter into himself, squishing them together. Peter can barely touch his fingers together around the expanse that is Deadpool, while the other man can wrap both arms fully around Peter easily. He has to dip his chin down ever so slightly so he can rest it on Peter’s head. It’s comforting to be embraced like this and Peter fears he could easily stay like that forever. 

“We probably shouldn’t stick around,” Deadpool whispers into the top of Peter’s head. 

“My webs are all over the body,” Peter mutters into Deadpool’s chest. “We’re at a crime scene, and my webs are everywhere.” 

Reluctantly, Peter retracts himself from Deadpool. They have a still moment where they both look the other over. Deadpool is the first to turn away.

“Okay.  _ Fuck _ . Okay.” Deadpool breathes out as he walks away from Peter. “Can’t we just pull them off?”

“Yeah, yeah I can do that. I think.” 

Peter watches as Deadpool walks over to where the gun is webbed to the walls, and attempts to pull it free. He braces a leg against the wall, and put all of his weight into trying to pry the thing loose. A laugh bubbles out of Peter, the whole situation feeling so far from his normal. Which is saying a lot: Peter lives a weird life. Peter walks over to the wall, pushes Deadpool out of the way, and pulls the webbing off.

“Looks like those muscles are just for show,” Peter teases, balling the webbing up in his fist. 

“And you just keep getting better,” Deadpool groans. “Seriously, stop being perfect.”

Perfect is not how Peter would describe himself. If he was perfect, he wouldn’t be in the sort of situation where he needed to pull his webbing free from a dead body so he doesn’t get incriminated in the murder. He can’t even manage to fully look at the body. 

“Hey.” Deadpool places a finger under Peter’s chin, slowly tilting Peter’s face till they are looking each other in the eyes (sort of, in the eye lenses). “Just focus on getting your webs, not on anything else, okay?”

Peter nods. He can do this, it’s just like pulling the webbing off of any other surface. It’s something he repeats back to himself as he makes his way over to the body. It hasn’t even been ten minutes since Peter heard the man speak. There is limpness to the body that makes it impossible for Peter to pretend the man is merely sleeping. He is unmistakably dead. 

Shutting his eyes tight, Peter crouches down and takes a deep breath to help his nerves. It doesn’t help. He cracks his eyes open enough to make out where to grab the webbing, and does so in with as much speed as he can muster. It’s over in seconds, and he stands, turning so his back is to the body. The webbing feels heavy in his hands. He pinned the guy down, giving Deadpool a clean shot. Does this make him responsible for the man’s death? He certainly didn’t stop it. Does it count as self defense, even if Deadpool had been planning to kill him before that moment?

“We need to go,” Deadpools says softly. 

Peter hates how when Deadpool wraps his hand around Peter’s wrist, that the contact makes his breath hitch. He hates that he loves the feeling. This man just killed someone. It’s unfair. Peter feels strung out, and follows along as Deadpool leads them out of the apartment. They don’t go the same way they came, instead going for the stairwell that must exit at the back of the building. Instead of taking the stairs down, Deadpool drags them up the stairs until they reach the roof access door. Once they are outside, Deadpool let’s go of Peter’s wrist. 

“I’m sorry,” Deadpool begins. “I should never have let you come along. I don’t think I have it in me to refuse you anything, though.” Deadpool lets out a harsh sounding laugh. “Try not to abuse that. I wasn’t planning on killing him. Not— not in front of you like that.” Deadpool clenches his fists, pressing them into his sides. “You're too good for shit like that.”

Peter doesn’t feel like he is  _ any _ sort of good at the moment. He let a man die and, is willing to let the murderer walk away from the situation. There is nothing good about that.

“It wasn’t how I would have handled the situation.” It’s the only thing he can think to say. 

The sound of sirens grows louder. They don’t have long. There is so much Peter feels he should say. Instead, he turns and jumps from the roof to swing away. 

\---

Aunt May can definitely tell something is wrong: it’s in the way she’s been looking at Peter all week. The way she keeps questioning the short responses Peter gives her. He knows she wants to ask, but that she also won’t push him. That she will wait. It’s that knowledge that has Peter finally admitting some of what happened. That and he just needs someone to listen or he might explode. 

They’ve just finished eating breakfast, and Aunt May is on her second cup of coffee. It’s when Peter is taking the plates to the sink, his back turned to her, that the question finally bursts free “do you think some people deserve to die?”

“Wow, that’s a big question for so early,” she tells him, setting her cup down on the table. “I don’t think anyone deserves to die.”

Peter fidgets with the plates as he sets them in the sink. It’s easier to say these things if he’s not looking at her. “What if they’ve done something truly awful, but no one will send them to jail for it? Even when they did something unforgivable?”

His aunt hums in thought. Her chair scrapes against the floor as she pushes back from the table slightly. “Everyone deserves the chance to change, to repent. Peter, did something happen?”

Peter wonders how long she has been wanting to utter those words. Just the past week? Or year? Peter contemplates telling her he saw someone die, that he stood over their lifeless body. That he could see into their skull. That he knows what that much blood smells like, and what brain matter looks like spread across a carpet. That every time has tried to fall asleep this past week, the image comes to him so vividly that he has to stop his dinner from making an appearance.

A sob breaks out of Peter. “Sometimes I think I want the man who killed Uncle Ben to die. That I want to be the one to do it.” It’s not what he meant to say but it’s true all the same. 

“Oh Peter.” Aunt May is up and across the room embracing Peter in seconds. The comfort of her arms around him has Peter sobbing harder. “My sweet Peter. Of course I wish the same thing. How could we not? Ben was… he was  _ everything _ . But just because we’re hurting doesn’t mean we should hurt others. We need to stop the pain, not create more.” 

Eventually Peter stops crying, Aunt May rocking them as she makes gentle shushing sounds into the back of his hair. They cancel their plans for the day and spend it with each other sitting on the couch, watching bad TV and some of Ben’s favorite movies. Something they haven’t done in far too long. 

Peter wishes he could unburden himself of the death he witnessed. There is no good way to explain the situation, not without revealing the fact that he is Spider-man. There is no way he can do that to Aunt May. 

The next time he sees Deadpool (seventeen days since the last time, not that he’s counting), Peter falters slightly in his swing but refuses to stop. He’s not ready for that. 

The second time he sees Deadpool (three days since the last), Peter is on his way home from school, and sees the other man waiting by the side of the road. Deadpool must be used to people staring at him, because he doesn’t even so much at acknowledge that Peter is openly gawking at him. A cab pulls up to the curb, and Deadpool disappears into it.

After that occurrence, Peter makes up his mind to speak to Deadpool. Of course it becomes impossible to find the man. It takes Peter another thirty-six days to finally find him. He's so relieved at seeing the six-foot-something-way-too-tall-of-a-man that he forgets to be angry, and drops right down on the guy’s back while he was strolling down the street.

“Holy shit balls!” Deadpool hollers, quickly yanking back a knife Peter never even saw him pull out. “That's some greeting, Spidey! Gave me a heart attack.” 

Peter drops down to the ground, embarrassed about how he acted at the sight of the Deadpool. “Didn’t want to risk you slipping away.”

“Yeah, well…” Deadpool gives the knife a little flip before tucking it back away into his suit. “It’s a good way to get stabbed sneaking up on a-”

“A mercenary?”

“You looked me up?” Deadpool coos.

“Sure did.” Peter frowns. The things he discovered are far from pleasant. Peter does his best to look disapproving at Deadpool’s excitement. 

“So what? You want an autograph?” 

“Only if it’s signing a restraining order.”

“Ouch!” Slapping a hand over his heart, Deadpool sways off to the side. “You wound me!” 

Peter snorts out a laugh. “You’ll get over it.”

People are stopping to stare at the pair, and Peter can’t help but notice the fact that they are standing _ way _ too close together. He takes a small hop back. 

“Can we get out of here?” Peter asks.

The squeal Deadpool lets loose has Peter covering his ears. “I thought you’d never ask!” 

Sighing, Peter wraps an arm around as much of Deadpool's middle as he can manage. He swings them up to the top of a nearby building with Deadpool screaming like Tarzan the entire time. 

The landing is far from smooth, Peter has never tried to carry someone of Deadpool's size before and doesn't know how to accommodate for it. Deadpool's long legs hit the ground first and they end up a tangle of limbs of which Peter quickly extracts himself. 

“What did you want to talk about, handsome?” Deadpool says as he sits down on the ledge of the building, his feet hanging over the edge. 

Making sure to leave a sizable distance between them Peter sits down too, kicking his legs out from the side of the building. 

“I just,” Peter hesitates over his next words, “I think there is another way, other than killing people.” 

Deadpool hums thoughtfully, “You know, sometimes I forget that you hero types aren’t as used to death.”

Peter thinks back to Uncle Ben, “I know death.”

They way Deadpool looks over at him has Peter reevaluating. 

“You’ve never taken a life.” It’s not a question. Deadpool looks out over the city, his fingers tapping some unknown rhythm against the cement of the roof. “I’ve taken more than I count. Truthfully. We are talking triple digits.

Peter bristles, “and they all deserved it?”

“No,” Deadpool admits with a laugh.

“Then stop,” Peter pleads.

“The guy from the other day, Rodger.”

“The guy you killed.”

Deadpool doesn't even wince at the accustation, “yeah him. Those girls, they will have scars across their faces for the rest of their lives, everywhere they go people will be able to take one look at them and know what happened. There is no hiding from this for them, no going back to normal. One of the girls was stabbed through the palm of her hand and will never be able to open it properly again. All of them flinch if you stand too close, they went to the police but they’re prostitutes. They were  _ laughed  _ at before being kicked back to the curb.”

Peter takes in a sharp breath, he knew all of that but it still hurts to hear it laid out like that because someone like Rodger shouldn’t be allowed back on the streets. It's just hard to get from there to thinking the man should die. 

“We could have found another way,” Peter’s voice sounds small even to him.

Deadpool lets out a long sigh, “that’s not how the world works. Not for people like him. Not for girls like them.”

“So I’m just supposed to be okay with it?”

Deadpool turns back to look at Peter, “I hope you’re never okay with it. You’re what, in your early twenties?”

Doing his best not to start hyperventilating at the fact that he’s only sixteen, Peter tries to sound convincing when he says, “I’m twenty.” 

Deapool groans, “fuck that’s young. Can’t even drink, damn Spidey.”

Peter’s face heats and grumbles out, “not that young.”

“You’re just a baby,” Deadpool whines. “Seriously, kind of proving my point. You still have lots to learn. Just, I hope you never learn what it means to be a killer. Leave the dirty work to me, okay?”

“You’re more than just a killer.”

Deadpool recoils as if slapped, looking anywhere but where Peter is sitting, Deadpool stands from his spot. He dusts off the non-existent dirt from his suit, “I’ve got places to be, see you around Spidey.

Just like that Deadpool disappears over the side of the building, using the fire escape. There’s an ache in Peter’s chest, there was so much he didn’t get to say and what he did manage to say ended up being the wrong thing. Like always. 

Peter buries his head in his hands, wishing he knew where to go from here. 

\---

It takes Peter over two weeks to sort out his thoughts. He sets out in his Spider-Man suit in search of Deadpool armed with a well thought out plan and an articulate speech prepared. There are some things they need to discuss, namely that it's in everyone's best interest if they no longer spend time together. After all Peter is still working on building a reputation for himself and he can't really help anyone if they’re frightened of Spider-man, can he? And if it means he gets to distance himself from the object of his confusing dreams, that’s only a bonus.

It's in the same neighborhood they met that Peter finds the Merc casually sitting on a bench decked out in the usual red and black with a pizza box open on his lap. Dropping from mid swing, Peter lands on the opposite side of the bench. The only reaction he gets for his precise landing is a slight tilt to Deadpool’s head and a pleased sounding hum. Peter kinda wishes he would have gotten applause, Deadpool is usually more encouraging.

“Why are you eating pizza on a park bench?” Peter asks as he reaches over to snag a slice from the box, his curiosity taking precedence over the plan. Using his free hand he pushes up his mask to his nose, his stomach grumbles at the smell of cheese and he takes a large bite. His nose wrinkles at the taste.

“Pineapple and olive, good right?” Deadpool says proudly.

“Those aren't real pizza toppings, you don't put those things on pizza and certainly not together. A real pizza has pepperoni and mushrooms on it.” Still, it is  _ food  _ and Peter has a crazy metabolism. He can never really pass up a chance to eat, especially when it’s free. He takes another bite. 

“They're on a pizza so that makes them pizza toppings, I reject your logic.” Deadpool scoff as he shrugs his shoulder. “Plus it's a great combination. Sweet and salty.”

“It's gross and you're gross for liking it.” Peter finishes up the last bite of his slice and leans over to grab another. It's actually a pretty good combination of toppings.

“You get none then,” Deadpool slams the box closed over Peter's fingers. 

Not that it hurts, it's just cardboard after all. Grinning Peter wiggles his fingers around tell he grips a slice and pulls it free of the box. Trying to snatch the slice back Deadpool leans across the bench which is when Peter notices something sitting on Deadpool's left shoulder.

“Why is there a turtle on your shoulder,” Peter sputters out, holding his pizza back over his head and away from Deadpool's grabby fingers.

Leaning back, Deadpool pats the shell of the turtle like one might pat a dog. “He's my emotional support turtle.”

“That's not a thing,” Peter frowns and takes a bite of his pizza now that Deadpool is preoccupied.

“Yeah, not  _ yet _ ,” Deadpool scoffs, saying it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. “I'm making it a thing, I'm what you call an influencer.”

Peter chokes on the bite he was chewing, the laughter in his throat comes out as a hacking cough. “Yup, that's you. MercforTaco69, influencer.”

Deadpool bristles at the mention of his online handle, clearly not expecting Peter to be aware of it. Peter's grin grows wider.

“It takes time to grow a following,” Deadpool pouts, turning away from Peter and opening the pizza box back up. When he grabs a slice, it dawns on Peter that the man still has his masked fully on, but Deadpool doesn't bring the slice up to his mouth he holds it out for the turtle to nibble on. Which it does.

“Uh, I don't think turtles should eat pizza.” Peter interjects, moving to take the slice away from Deadpool.

“Just full of helpful comments today, aren't you?” Deadpool uses a mocking tone and angles away from Peter to keep the pizza out of reach. “Pizza is a turtle's favorite food, I'll have you know.”

“I seriously doubt that.” 

“It's common knowledge!” As if to agree the turtle takes another bite of pizza. Feeling betrayed Peter glares at the turtle. 

“It most certainly is not, they eat like…” Peter’s voice trails off as he tries to think of a plausible diet for a turtle. It’s not like he was ever allowed one growing up. 

“See you don’t even know!” Deadpool jabs the pizza in Peter’s face as if to illustrate his point.

On instinct Peter reacts and nocks Deadpool’s hand out of his face sending the pizza slice flying. It lands face down on the ground. Deadpool doesn’t even give it a second glance before he’s reaching back into the box and grabbing a fresh slice. The turtle nibbles on the end when it’s offered to him.

Sighing, knowing if he doesn’t no one will, Peter gets up off the bench and picks the slice of pizza off the ground. There is an ant already crawling along the edge of it, Peter does his best not to let the ant get onto himself as he walks over to a trash can and tosses the slice inside. 

When he turns back to the bench he finds Deadpool watching him intently, like throwing away a dirty slice of pizza is somehow more of grand gesture than Peter anticipated. Doing his best to avoid eye contact, Peter plops back down on the bench feeling embarrassed. 

“It’s shit like that makes you so much better than me,” Deadpool admits in a hushed tone.

“I just picked up some trash.”

“That’s sweet that you think it’s no big deal.”

Peter blinks, “I was just taught not to litter.”

“Yeah I guess I never really had any hope in that department,” Deadpool’s laughter is sharp. “So I was thinking…”

Peter groans, “did it hurt?”

This time Deadpool’s laughter sounds more genuine, “I was thinking you should teach me.”

“To not litter?” 

“That and to just be, you know,  _ better _ .”

“Oh.” That certainly puts a crimple in Peter’s plan. The whole reason he didn’t want to be around Deadpool anymore because he could tell he would be a corrupting influence but if he can make him a better person…

The turtle takes another small bite from the pizza and Peter watches the way Deadpool seems so intently focused on his small companion. He's making little ‘nom nom’ noises as if to help encourage the turtle to eat more. It’s endearing. 

Peter clears his throat, “why are you sitting out here?”

“You wouldn’t be able to find us if we were eating inside somewhere would you?” Deadpool gasps, “wait, could you?! Spidey, can you see through walls?”

“Definitely not,” Peter laughs out. “And okay, I will.”

“Wait, for real?” Deadpool shrieks happily.

Smiling, Peter nods his head. “First rule though, no killing.”

“Yeah, no worries, I expected that. It’s been a  _ whole _ week since I’ve separated anyone from their head. That’s real progress right there!”

“I’m not certain I’ll be the best teacher. I’m not everything you think I am.”

Deadpool just shrugs, like it’s nothing to be concerned over. Which, maybe to him, it isn’t. “It’s not like you can make me worse and just being around you... “ Deadpool lets out a long breath and tilts his head back. The length of his torso is long enough that he looks like he could double over the back of the bench. It’s a mystery how the turtle stays put on his shoulder. “It makes me want to be better. So don’t feel the need to go out of your way. You’ll do a great job just being you.”

The feeling of unshed tears wells up in Peter, he takes in a shaky breath and wills himself to not to let them pour freely. Crying on a park bench is not a manly thing to do. It’s just, that’s how he used to think about his Uncle Ben, that the man was so good that just being around him made you a better person. The idea that he could fill that role in someone else's life is so far from real. How can Peter be  _ that  _ to someone like Deadpool, who’s experienced so much more of life? Peter only has sixteen years to his name and one to Spider-man’s. That's hardly anything.

“So what? You just want to hang out on park benches together?”

“We can test out every bench this city has to offer! Rate them for the public, find the best ones!” Deadpool is giddy, bouncing in his seat at the prospect. 

Peter’s whole body shakes with laughter, “You’re ridiculous but I guess it’ll be something to do while patrolling.”

“And if there’s anything else you ever want to get up to-”

Peter cuts in, his voice an octave higher than it should be. “Nope! I mean, bench testing is a good place to start. Fight some crime along the way. Yup.”

“That’s fair,” Deadpool says.

Which Peter thinks it’s not really. Deadpool is always so accepting of being shut down.

“You still hungry Spidey?” Deadpool holds out the pizza box. 

“Always,” Peter says, grateful for the change in topic as he grabs another slice. “Aren’t you going to have some though?”

“Yeah, uh, not hungry." 

Which doesn’t sound very truthful but it’s not something Peter wants to push, he’s more than happy to eat the rest of the pizza by himself. Whatever this thing between them is, or will end up being. Peter doesn’t think he wants to pretend it isn’t real. Doesn’t want to  _ repress _ whatever it could become. Wade is a great person, who wants to be better and Peter likes spending time around him. That’s all that should matter, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D 
> 
> Comments are always appreciated. 
> 
> Come say hi on the [tumblr](https://thetimidturnip.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated some of the tags for later chapters, nothing major or that should be a surprise at this point. I hope. Hope you enjoy the new chapter.

It turns out that Deadpool has a very different metric for rating something than most people would use. You could go so far as to call it off the walls crazy. The same system is never used twice, the first bench was apparently a very green banana, what does that mean on a scale of banana ripeness? Most people don’t like a green banana but that happens to be Peter’s favorite. So was it a good bench? Who knows. Peter had kind of expected they wouldn’t actually follow through with the plan but who is he to argue with Deadpool’s enthusiasm?

The bench they currently sit on ranks three spicy hot dogs. Which is really good apparently.

“Spicy things are always the best, Spidey, duh.” 

Which is not an opinion Peter shares but he can see where Deadpool is coming from. The fact that three is the top amount of hot dogs because that’s the most Deadpool can shove in his mouth at one time is another story.

When they are finished with the bench they usually spend time walking around, looking to help anyone who needs it. Sometimes if Peter is in the mood he’ll even give Deadpool a piggy-back ride and swing them around. Deadpool seems to love it a little  _ too  _ much. He can’t seem to stay still, always wiggling around and pointing out things as they go. It gets so bad that Deadpool almost causes them to crash into a building a few times because he’s blocking Peter’s vision. So he tries to limit their occurence. 

Hanging out with Deadpool is different. Nothing that comes out of his mouth should be taken at face value, everything to him is a joke. Except, there are some times when he says something that makes Peter question just how much of it is just an act. 

The one thing that doesn’t seem to be an act is just how competitive Deadpool can be. Which is starting to become a major problem because Peter is just as competitive but is always forced to reign it in because he can’t use his powers. That’s not the case when he’s with Deadpool, he doesn’t have to hold back on anything. He can be who he  _ is.  _ It’s liberating, to get to share that side of himself.

That and it’s really great winning all the time. They spot a bench down the street and all Deadpool has to do is look over at Peter and he knows it’s on. The only thing about being competitive with Deadpool is that the man isn’t above cheating, he shoves at Peter making him lose his balance before sprinting off towards the bench. Not that the head start is actually going to help the man, Peter laughs and jumps up to the top one of the street lamps. From there he is easily able to hop to the next one and the one after. He flips down onto the bench just before Deadpool reaches it.

“Saved you a seat,” Peter pats at the space next to him on the bench, grinning. 

“Jumping is cheating. It was supposed to be a foot race.” Deadpool takes a seat, wiggling around to get comfortable. 

Peter snorts out a laugh, “pretty sure that shove at the beginning was against regulations.”

“Physical contact is definitely permitted,” Deadpool lears, leaning in closer to Peter.

Peter squirms in his seat, thoughts of just what sort of physical contact they could be getting up to swimming through his head. Which this really isn’t the time for. Peter clears his throat, “I’m thinking this bench rates a dachshund on the scale of dogs.”

Deadpool laughs, “and how did you come to that conclusion?”

“It’s long but kinda too small to be really good. So dachshund.” Peter squares his shoulders feeling smug with his choice. It took him all day to come up with a rating system using dogs. 

The laughter he hears from Wade definitely makes it worthwhile. “That’s a good one.” 

“Thanks, Deadpool.” 

“It’s Wade.”

“What is?” Peter blinks, tilting his head to the side. 

Deadpool clears his throat, turning away. “My name, I just thought since we’re hanging out so much. You could use my name sometimes.”

_ Wade. _ It’s a great name. It’s perfect. Peter wants to test the way it feels on his lips but his throat feels dry. It feels like a step towards something, they spend all this time together not even knowing each other's real names or faces. And  _ Wade _ wants to change that. 

“You don’t have to tell me your name, that’s not why I, shit, fuck.” Wade buries his face in his hands and continues to swear.

“Wade,” Peter says softly as he pulls Wade’s hands back from his face. “I know you didn’t mean it like that.”

A soft whine comes from Wade, he clutches back at Peter’s hands before letting go. Peter wishes he could tell what Wade is thinking. Wants to know if his name would be safe with Wade, he wants to believe it would be but they hardly know each other. Something that can’t really happen if Peter never opens up. 

Which he really wants. He aches for that. It’s not something he’s ever felt before. 

Wade’s voice cuts into his thoughts, “Don’t tell me. Not tonight.”

“But what if I want to?” 

“Just not tonight,” Wade pleads. “I don’t want you to tell me just because I told you.”

It’s funny because the only time Peter has heard that line in use is in the romance movies Aunt May watches when someone says I love you for the first time. Which is stupid. It’s stupid to think of a name like a love confession. It’s stupid. So stupid and yet he wants it. Wants Wade to say those words too.

Instead of Peter’s half-baked fantasy of a love confession, Wade looks away from Peter and out at the water. “We should call it a night.”

Not wanting to say something stupid, Peter pinches his leg hard in an attempt to bring himself back down to reality. “Yeah, probably.”

\---

The car swerves off to the right, Deadpool swaying almost completely off from where he grips at the roof. Honestly, Peter doesn't know what the man was thinking, he could have easily carried the both of them while he swung after the robbers. There is no stopping the man when he decides on a course of action, even if it is hanging onto the roof of a getaway car by his fingertips. It might not even have been that dumb of an idea, not with the way Deadpool manages to swing himself over the side, shoot out one of the windows and slide inside. The car crashes in a sickening crunch into the side of a building. Smoke pours from the engine. 

Peter lands down next to the car and pulls the door clean off in his haste to get Wade free. Wade steps out of the car dragging the two assailants out by the collar of their shirts. They are both unconscious, Wade tosses them to the ground before giving Peter two thumbs up.

“Nailed it!”

“Sure did big guy,” Peter grins. He wonders how messed up it is that he’s proud of Deadpool for not killing the robbers.

There are sirens from police cars drawing closer, which is their cue to leave. Peter wraps an arm around Wade, shooting out a web he pulls them up and away from the scene. The robbers actually managed to make it pretty far, almost onto the Throgs Neck Bridge. Peter takes Wade to the top of the bridge so that they can watch the incoming arrest go down.

Wade chatters on about how you should never try to make a getaway across a bridge. Real amature hour. They’re watching the cops try to pile the limp bodies of the robbers into the back of their cars when Deadpool directs Peter’s attention away and further up on the bridge where a nest is barely visible. A bird watches them.

Deadpool leans in close so he can whisper in Peter’s ear, “that is a Peregrine falcon.”

“Is it really?” Peter whispers back. He huddles in closer to the warmth of the other man, needing it with how the wind chills them from how high up they're sitting. Deadpool could tell him that it’s a rare type of peacock and he’d have no way of disproving him. 

Deadpool nods, pointing towards the bird. "You can tell by the size and the blue-gray coloration on their back. We actually have one of the largest urban populations. If you see a flock of seagulls or pigeons scatter it's probably because one of these guys is hanging around." 

"Huh, that's pretty cool. Why do you know all that?”

Peter feels Deadpool shrug instead of actually seeing the motion. “I wanted to have a hunting falcon for awhile. Let me tell you, those guys are not easy to capture.”

“Can’t you just buy one?”

“And run the risk of the bird being loyal to another? No thanks.” 

Deadpool’s fingers twitch where he has them resting in his lap and the mad thought to take them in his own jumps into Peter’s head. The comforting presence of Deadpool pressed along him makes the urge not as alarming as the other times he’s thought of initiating physical contact. It doesn’t feel like it’s just because the man is there or because it’s the adrenaline, it’s feels like it’s because it’s Wade. It’s not a big deal that it’s a man, why should that matter when he makes Peter laugh?

So Peter does the unthinkable and reaches out for Wade’s hand, finding the whole process somehow more daunting than anything that’s happened so far tonight. Easing himself into the situation he starts by running his fingers across the side of Wade’s forearm, inching his fingers down until they brush along just inside of the man’s wrist. There is no way Peter would be able to encompass the width of Wade’s wrist in his grip. 

Holding his breath, Peter waits for Wade to pull away. To do something. Only he just watches where Peter has his hand like it’s the most fascinating thing on the planet. Slowly, he turns his palm upwards in what Peter hopes is an invitation. Finally releasing the breath he was holding, Peter runs his fingers up the center of the large palm before him and takes it in his own. His hand feels half the size even though it’s only just a bit smaller.. 

Peter can’t help but question himself though and asks in a whisper, “Is this okay?” 

A gently squeeze to his hand is the only answer that Peter gets. So he lets himself enjoy the moment and settles back into the side of Wade, not even certain when he had moved away. Being perched up high is one of Peter’s favorite things, especially at night when the city glows. The East River runs below them, pitch black and Peter can see for miles along the coast. It’s one of those rare moments that you can feel is just perfect, that you hope you always remember. 

Usually, Wade doesn’t stop talking when they are together. It makes the silence of the moment that much more prominent, the steady rhythm of Wade’s breathing lulling Peter into almost falling asleep. 

It comes to him in that moment that if Wade asked again, this time Peter would say yes to getting kissed. Which wow. That wakes Peter back up fully. Wade must feel the way Peter stiffens because he gives one last squeeze to Peter’s hand before pulling away. Which wasn’t what Peter had wanted, not at all.

“You’re a good person, Spidey.”

Peter scoffs at the comment even though it makes him feel gooey inside. “You're giving me too much credit, Wade.”

“No,” Wade whispers, his fingers brushing along Peter’s neck. “I’m really not.”

Peter’s head spins, he can’t help but think that this is the moment. Heart beating, Peter leans in closer, their knees bump together. Every point of contact feels heady. Peter wants more. He brushes his fingers across Wade’s neck in an imitation of what Wade is doing to him. He pushes further though and dips his fingers in between where the mask and suit meet and starts to tug the mask free.

Wade jumps up and screams, “Spidey, do you see that?”

Peter feels like he’s got whiplash from the sudden change of tone. It takes him a moment to register that Wade is pointing at something and longer for him to actually turn his head and take a look. 

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be looking at.” Peter slowly says. 

Wade gasps, clutching at his heart. “Only the best mexican food truck in the city.”

A food truck on the street. One that is apparently worth ruining the moment for. 

“We have to go,” Wade whines, gesturing down to the truck. “You need to try it. It’s a downright crime if you don’t.”

Peter pinches the bridge of his nose, “I don’t really feel like eating right now.”

Wade laughs, pulling at Peter’s arm in an attempt to get him to stand. “You are  _ always _ hungry. I’ll get you one of everything.”

Somehow, Peter can’t seem to say no to the proposition. Say no to Wade. They do end up getting one of everything, only Wade takes his massive bag of food and leaves Peter alone to eat his. 

If it really was the best mexican food truck, Peter will never really know, he hardly tastes the food. Barely remembers even eating it but one moment he has a full bag and the next he’s reaching into an empty one. He’s numb the entire way home, he thought Wade had wanted him back. So why did he reject Peter?

\---

It's easier after that night for Peter to admit his attraction to Wade, even if it is only to himself.

And even more so because nothing will ever come of it. Wade seems withdrawn and Peter can't help but feel that he crossed a line when he tried to remove Wade’s mask. Peter can't believe he did something so stupid, so  _ childish _ . 

A part of him wants to take it back and the other wouldn't give the memory of that night for all the money in the world. 

The night is cut short by Wade saying he has somewhere to be, people to bother. For one wild moment Peter thinks he's going to mention it, that he will work up the nerve to ask what he did wrong for Wade to pull back. 

He ends up not saying a word.

Wade doesn't show up the next day or the one after. It takes two weeks for Peter to get the hint and stop showing up too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://thetimidturnip.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

Aunt May's fork clinks against her plate in a manner that Peter intimately knows means that she wants to have a talk. A talk about  _ feelings _ . 

"Is everything okay, Peter?" 

Peter’s fork scrapes against his plate, making an awful screeching sound. "Everything's fine Aunt May.”

By the way Aunt May eyes up the fork Peter is clenching tightly, it doesn’t seem that she buys it. “You’ve been withdrawn. I thought, well, it’s just that you haven’t been like this since Uncle Ben died. I just wanted to know if something happened.”

If Peter was a better nephew he wouldn’t make May worry like he is. Not for the first time he wishes he was more adept at keeping his emotions in check.

“Everything it fine.”

“Peter,” May sighs and rubs at her temple as if she has a headache she needs to rid herself of. “We can’t keep going like this.”

“Why? It’s what I do. I chase people away. They leave. It’s what I always do.” Peter stabs at his plate with the fork.

“That’s not true,” May tries to argue, her voice takes on that soothing quality she’s learned to master over the years. She reaches out across the table and tries to take Peter’s hand in hers but Peter flinches away from the contact. “Did someone stop being your friend? Is that what this is about?”

Pushing his chair back, Peter goes to get up from the table but May goes for his hand again and this time manages to clasp it tightly between both of hers. 

May begs, “please talk to me. I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.”

It’s that contact, that makes Peter break. He doesn’t want to push Aunt May away. He wants to keep the people he cares about close. It just sucks that Wade somehow wormed his way onto that list.

“I did something stupid and now they won’t even talk to me. I can’t fix it because they’re already gone.” He stares down at their hands connected and is thankful he still has this, he clutches back firmly. 

“Sometimes, it’s not about how hard we try. Sometimes people just leave our lives and there is nothing you can do about it. I know it sucks, sweety.” May gets up from her spot at the table, the chair scraping across the linoleum. She takes Peter in an embrace, squeezing him gently.

“But what if I did something and it made them uncomfortable, I should have just kept going with the way things were. I just, I wanted more and I just, I messed up. I want to take it back or at least say I’m sorry. I just, I don’t understand how they could have left without letting me say sorry.” Peter doesn’t mean to start crying but once the first one drops the rest follow. He sobs into May’s shoulder, letting out the frustration he’s felt the past few weeks. 

“Sometimes you have to take that chance, these things don’t always work out. There will be other chances and trust me, it only takes the once to make all the failed attempts worth it. A girl like that doesn’t sound worth your time.”

For a moment Peter thinks to correct her and to tell her that it was no girl. But what does it matter when this ended up being a failed attempt? A failed experiment.

\---

The days pass in a blur of school and crime fighting, Peter pushes himself harder than he ever has before. He wants to forget Wade and the way he made Peter feel. 

If he ends up being a little reckless, it’s because the job demands it. The broken bones heal in a matter of days so it’s no big deal. 

Really.

And he’s getting better at putting on a happy face for Aunt May, she remarks all the time that it’s great that Peter is back to his normal self. 

Really. 

He even manages to catch a bus just before it would have been knocked off a bridge. There are clips of it all over the internet, it  _ would  _ have been awesome if Spider-man wasn’t bleeding all over the pavement. Peter hates how he went back to clean it up because of how Deadpool told him you should never leave your blood for people to collect. 

There is also a great clip of Peter swinging out from a burning building carrying an elderly lady who couldn’t move fast enough to get out in time. Peter thinks he looks very heroic. When Peter finds a video of Deadpool, it sort of puts a sour taste in his mouth about watching his own. The way Wade moves and fights is everything Peter is not. It makes every video of Spider-man look amateurish in comparison. That’s the last video he watches.

\---

There is blood dripping from Peter’s left arm. It’s bad. Bad enough to need stitches. It’s been three months since he’s seen Wade, longer than the time they spent together. It’s stupid but he just wants Wade to show up and stitch him back together. He sinks down on the corner of the roof of his apartment building and cries instead of going inside. He should be over this by now. 

\---

Sometimes when it gets the better of him, Peter will swing by some of the benches he rated with Wade. It’s not like he hopes Wade will be there, he wouldn’t stop if he was. It’s just, he really hopes to see Wade there. He can be the one to do the ignoring this time. 

But then there he is and it’s not so easy to overlook and keep going.

He’s sitting on the same bench he shared a pizza with Peter months ago with another pizza box sitting on his lap. Acting like no time has passed. 

It makes Peter's head spin, he loses focus and control. The web he’d been swinging from slips out of his grasp. He falls. The cement of the pavement comes rushing to meet him and Peter can’t help but welcome it along with the incoming pain. They’ve become good friends lately. 

Instead a pair of strong arms catch him out of the air. They hold onto him tightly and it’s everything Peter has been dreaming of. He presses himself further into Wade’s chest, chasing the sound of the man's beating heart. He lets himself believe that Wade’s heart is thumping so quickly because of him. Because they’re close and not because Peter almost became roadkill.

Feeling as though it is warranted, Peter punches Wade in the shoulder and doesn’t hold back.

“Fuck,” Wade winces. “Yeah, okay. I won’t catch you next time. Message received.” 

“You left,” Peter grumbles into Wade’s chest. 

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t you.” Wade says as he walks them over to the nearest alley and away from prying eyes. People already have their phones out to take pictures.

“That’s just a lie people say when the other person is the problem. You can tell me what I did.” 

“You’re perfect, you did  _ nothing  _ wrong. I just, I couldn’t accept you seeing the real me.” Wade is apologetic, rubbing soft circles into Peter’s back.

Despite how compromising the position is Peter refuses to get out of Wade’s arms. The feeling of Wade’s hands on him makes the pain from the last few months melt away. 

“I’ve seen you kill someone. I don’t know what you think you could do to scare me away.”

“It gets a lot worse than that,” Wade says honestly.

Peter huffs, “I don’t care.”

Wade lets out a defeated sounding sigh, and tips Peter over onto his feet. Peter wobbles when he reaches the ground, he has to steady himself by holding onto Wade’s shoulder.

“You really should.”

Looking up at Wade, Peter tries to remember the reasons he promised himself that he would give Wade space when he came back. That he wouldn’t push. But the way Wade is standing in front of him, hunched protectively over Peter. Even though it’s all Peter has thought about every day since he left, he can’t help but think he forgot just how big Wade is. He wants to curl into the center of Wade’s chest and have the man’s arms wrap around him. Wants to run his fingers up the length of his neck and push up that mask. He wants to know what Wade’s lips taste like. 

He exhales a shaky breath and tilts his head forwards to bump Wade’s chin. Which has Wade jumping back from him, alarmed. Peter can't believe he did it again, pushing his need for physical contact on Wade.

“I didn’t mean, I shouldn’t have,  _ I’m sorry.” _ Peter rushes out his words and keeps his hands clenched at his sides so as not to reach and draw Wade back to himself like he so wants. 

Wade voice breaks, “ _ You grew. _ ” 

Peter doesn’t understand the words. He knows what they mean, but not what Wade means by them.

“You  _ grew,”  _ Wade repeats the words like they will mean something the second time around.

“I don’t understand," Peter says but as soon as the words leave his mouth it clicks in his head. Dread is pooling in Peter’s gut. Wade knows he lied. This isn’t how this was supposed to go. This is what Peter gets for not thinking things through, did he think that he could lie about his age forever with all the things he wants from Wade? That Wade wouldn’t notice Peter growing  _ taller _ ?

“This was, shit, fuck balls, I need to leave. This wasn’t. I can’t. You’re still  _ growing _ .” Wade’s panicking, he looks ready to jump the walls and claw his way out of this situation.

Panicking himself, Peter shouts, “I’m wearing heels.”

They both look down to Peter’s feet where he is most definitely  _ not  _ wearing any.

“I was crouching before?” Peter tries again, his voice rising in pitch with his dread.

Wade lets loose a manic sounding laugh as he continues to back away. “You  _ grew. _ ”

And Peter’s pretty sure he’s going to cry if he doesn’t let out some of his frustration. So he yells, “fine, leave! I do better when you’re not around anyways.”

“Everyone does.” 

Wanting control of the situation, not wanting to give Wade the satisfaction of being the one to leave, not again, Peter is the one to. Stalking out of the alley, he lets loose a web and swings away. Blood is pounding in his ears, he wants to scream but he just swings faster. He doesn’t know where he’s headed, he just goes. The night blurs around him, he moves on instinct towards the taller buildings, swinging his way higher and higher. 

How could he be so  _ stupid _ ?

How could he think he had a chance with someone like Wade? He has probably been with all sorts of people that are not boring sixteen year olds who lie. What does Peter even have going for him? He’s a skinny nerd with boring brown hair and eyes. The greatest thing he has going for him is that he was bitten by a radioactive spider. What does that matter when you’re at home, when there is no crime to fight? They had gotten along though, didn't they? Or had they just sat on some benches together. That’s it. That’s all. What even is that? He probably looked so childish in Wade’s eyes. Now Wade knows why that was, that Peter wasn’t just acting immature. 

The scream that is building within Peter threatens to let loose and his eyes water. He swings himself to the top of the building but lets go a tad to early and ends up rolling along the slanted roof, almost toppling right off. This building has to easily have over a hundred floors, that’s not a fall Peter can take. He comes to his senses quickly, his fingers finding purchase as he lets himself stick there. Sitting himself up, he finds a spot along the edge and finally lets himself scream. It comes out as a broken wail, again and again like he can’t stop. The sounds of the wind drowns out his voice, making Peter feel as if not even it will listen to his struggles. The cold air aches in his lungs, making each time he takes a breath painful. It’s so horribly cold this high up and there is no Wade next to him to warm him up this time. There probably never will be again.

Wade will never come back now. This was his one chance and his stupid body had to go and fuck it all up. He grew? He fucking  _ grew _ ? 

Wade probably likes his partners smaller than him and Peter is probably gonna keep growing and growing. Wade won’t want him even when he is old enough. He wants to pull out his hair in frustration. Wants to find someone to fight. 

Wants to not feel like this anymore.

Peter lets himself scream once more into the night and stays there until the sun starts to rise and he knows that if he doesn’t get home Aunt May will notice his absence. Those are not questions Peter wants to be answering. 

So he jumps, he lets the wind rush past him as gravity pulls him down and down. There is one mad moment where he thinks he could just keep going, it would be so easy. But May is waiting at home and he needs to go. So he lets loose a web and gets himself home, crawling into his room just in time for May to holler down the hallway for him to get out of bed and come get breakfast.

\--

The suit gets harder to put on after that. It’s like that night happened to Spider-man and by keeping the suit off he can keep up the illusion that it happened to another person and not Peter Parker. 

It’s harder to pretend it’s not something that happened when on his way home he finds that on every lamp post there is a photo of Deadpool’s face. Every single one. How long did it take Wade to put all these up, does he know where Peter lives or did he just put them up everywhere? They all have the same message, that Spidey needs to give him a call. There is a phone number listed at the bottom.

Peter grabs as many as he can and tears them down, stuffing them into his backpack. His heart pounds faster with each one he collects, Wade wants to talk. 

It’s probably the fastest Peter has ever rushed home, he doesn’t even second guess himself when he pulls out his phone to call Wade. 

The phone rings in his ear and Peter paces the length of his room (which isn’t much). It goes to voicemail. The phone slips from his hand and drops to the floor, making a loud crack that has Peter wincing. When he picks it up there is a fresh crack along the top of the screen, which is fine, it matches the one on the bottom. It’s hard to keep a phone in pristine condition when you’re Spider-man. When the phone starts ringing in his hand he jumps and almost drops it for a second time, managing to catch it out of the air before it does.

“Yes, this is Peter.” He answers on autopilot, which he immediately knows is a mistake because of the silence on the other end. He wants to just sink down into the floor.

“Uh, you just called me? I mean I know I posted my face everywhere but it was really only for one person and you guys have to stop calling me.”

“Yeah, um, yeah I know Wade.” Peter manages to force out.

There’s a large sigh from the other side and Peter can hear Wade moving around. It goes eerily silent after that and Peter can’t help but panic that he was hung up on. 

“Wade?” He asks, his palms sweating.

“Yeah, I’m still here. You gotta be more careful with that crap.” 

“I know,” Peter answers dejectedly. “It was just a reflex.”

“You’re not,” Wade sighs like this whole conversation is paining him. “Are you on your personal phone?”

Peter chooses not to answer that, his silence does all the talking for him. 

“Seriously! Fucking, fucknuggets. This. This is what we need to work on. You can’t just.” 

“Sorry?” Peter tries.

Wade whines, “Spideeeeeey. You little precious bean. Don’t think I didn’t notice the new tears in your suit either. You’re not that good at patching it up. So I figure, you need someone to help you with all this stuff. I was trying to learn from you but it turns out I should have been teaching you all along.” 

“I, what?” Peter feels genuinely dumbfounded. Wade wants to teach him?

“You need someone watching your back.”

“Because I’m a child?” Peter grits out, his excitement drains away. Of course this is what it’s about, he thinks Peter is to young. “I don’t need help.”

“No no no, that’s not it.” Wade desperately back tracks. “I just, I’ve been doing this for a long time?”

“So have I.”

“So why were there tears in your suit?”

Peter ends the call and tosses the phone onto his bed, kicking the end of it in frustration. He’s not a kid. The things that he can do, the things he’s seen. 

He’s not having some glorious childhood, that ended long ago. What he does is important.

The things he has to decide, those aren’t decisions that a  _ child _ makes. 

His phone rings, muffled by the blankets on the bed. 

It takes Peter a moment to calm himself enough to answer it, catching it just on the last ring. 

“I’m sorry, don’t hang up.” Wade spits out as soon as the phone is to Peter’s ear. When Peter doesn’t continue Wade seems to take that as a sign and keeps talking, “I know you don’t  _ need _ my help, I know that! But I’m military trained, I’ve got the know how. With a little help I think you’d never get hit again, I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

The sentiment is sweet. It chokes Peter up as he asks, “why?”

It’s hard to hear Wade, his voice going quiet. “I just want you to be safe.”

“But why?” 

“I won’t touch you again if you’re worried about that.”

It’s so backwards it makes Peter want to laugh. He was practically throwing himself at Wade. “That’s not what I want.”

Wade sounds like a wounded animal, Peter has to pull the phone back from his ear until he stops. 

“ _ Don’t say shit like that. _ ” Wade yells back, his voice leaving no room for complaint. 

“Okay,” Peter gives in, knowing when he’s defeated. He should consider it a victory that Wade still wants to spend time with him, it’s more than he thought he was getting. It should be enough. It shouldn’t still hurt.

“Okay,” Wade says. “Good, okay. That’s good. I figured we could meet up at the Sears parking lot in Flatbush tomorrow night. Late. But not too late? You have school in the morning, right?”

Peter sighs, “yes, I go to school. We can meet at ten.”

Peter hangs up before Wade can change his mind. 

\--- 

There had been about a million different things Peter had expected upon showing up and none of them prepared him for the sight in front of him. Wade was wearing a full on baseball uniform over his normal red and black attire. He has about 3 bats laid out on the ground next to him and what looks like two barrels full of baseballs. 

“I’m pretty sure I know how to play baseball,” Peter says as he lands on the ground in front of where Wade is standing. It must be a little too close because Wade takes a step back from Peter. He pretends the action doesn’t sting.

“I thought we could work on your reaction times, you tend to telegraph you’re next move. You turn and look wherever you are about to move next. Your shoulders tends to tilt in the same manner. So I’m going to hit the ball and you’re going to dodge.”

Peter snorts, “That doesn’t sound like much of a challenge.”

“I haven’t gotten to the best part! You have to do it with your hands tied behind your back! It’s gonna be so much fun.” Wade gleefully bounces around as he pulls a rope from behind his back. 

Peter stares at the way the rope swings between them. Getting tied up by an armed and dangerous mercenary is not smart. “Alright, still sounds easy but let’s do this.” Trying his best to emulate some confidence, Peter walks over to Wade and turns around, offering his hands up behind his back. 

“Right,” Wade croaks out. 

The first touch is just a gentle push to get his wrists closer together. He can hear Wade muttering under his breath, something about not thinking things through and a series of curses that has Peter blushing. The rope is tight on his wrists when he tugs at it, there is hardly any give. It would be easy enough to break with his strength but without it Peter is certain he would be at the mercy of Wade until he was untied. Wade gives a gentle shove to the center of his back before stepping away. 

Wade doesn’t want Peter too far away, saying the closer they are the less time Peter has to react. The distance being about twenty feet between them. Wade straightens his hat, makes a spitting sound (Peter hopes it was just the sound and Wade didn’t spit in his mask) before tossing the ball into the air. There is a loud crack as the bat hits the ball, knocking it straight at Peter. It’s easy to dodge, Peter twists his body to the left. Crack, another ball comes flying at him and he twists to the right. Easy. 

“That all you got, big guy?” Peter taunts, flipping over the latest ball. He lands on his feet only to get hit in the shin. There had been no tell tale sound of the bat hitting the ball for that one, Wade had simply tossed the ball. And what a toss, there was definitely going to be a bruise. 

“Your feet tell which way you’re going to move, you’re fast enough that you should just be moving. Stop thinking about it.” 

Peter grumbles, rolls his shoulder and gets ready for the next batch of balls. Just don’t think about it, how is Peter suppose to do such a thing? He’s got to think these things through or they don’t happen. 

But maybe. There might be something to it, Peter shifts and spins to the left as a ball whizzes past. If Wade can tell where Peter is going to be moving next, maybe the reverse it true. So he watches the way Wade’s shoulders tense, the way the muscles in his arms move as his swings the bat. Crack, the ball flies through the air headed right towards Peter’s right shin. It’s easy to jump over. Three balls are tossed high into the air in quick succession, Wade hits each of them with ease. All three are aimed at different parts of Peter. Don’t think. He breathes out. He watches Wade. Don’t think. He twists as he jumps, his body flying between the three balls. A fourth and fifth come just as quickly but he was expecting it. He’d been watching Wade after all. 

They continue on like that for the next half hour, baseballs litter the entire parking lot. There is sweat trickling down the length of Peter’s spine and his wrists feel raw. It’s a great feeling. 

“That’s the way,” Wade cheers and tosses his hat up in the air. It lands behind him, ignored. He procures a small knife and moves around behind Peter. The blade presses between his wrists and with a quick upward slice the ropes fall to the ground. 

Peter rubs at his wrists, getting the feeling back in them. “That was actually helpful.”

“That’s me!”

Peter barks out a laugh before he can help it. 

“Hey!” Wade’s shoulders sag. “I could tell when you got it though. When you stopped watching your own movements.”

“Yeah, you were right about me needing to get out of my own head. Guess you do know some things.”

Wade’s chest puffs back out. 

Peter kicks the rope remains closer to Wade, “gonna pick that up?”

The way Wade looks down at the rope tells Peter that Wade hadn’t even considered the possibility. 

“Or how about the rest of this mess?” Peter waves hand at the hundreds of baseballs that litter the parking lot. 

“Uhhh,” Wade stiffens and starts to back away. 

“No way litter bug,” Peter grabs Wade’s hand and pulls the man back towards himself. 

“I can’t pick them up, I broke my back,” Wade doubles over and clutches at his back and starts making a pitiful sounding moan. 

Peter hates that it makes him laugh, “you’ll be fine old man, now pick them up or you’re not getting any dessert.” 

Wade seems to perk up at that, “you're gonna get me ice cream, Webs?”

“Only if you clean up,” Peter hesitates before continuing, “you can, I know it was an accident but when it’s just us you can call me Peter.” He’s honestly expected Wade to just start using his name. 

“I like calling you Spider related puns.” 

“Oh,” Peter says dumbly, not knowing how to argue with that. Right. They’re keeping their distance from each other because Peter’s a lying liar that lied about his age. That makes sense. Keep it to the work names.

“So, you want to help me pick these balls up, Web Head?” 

Peter answers the question by picking up one of the balls by his feet and tossing it into the barrel from where he stands. It’s a great shot, going smoothly right in the center and not hitting the sides.

“Shit, that’s how it’s going to be, huh?”

They spend the next hour picking up all the balls, having to start over half way because Wade knocks one of the barrels over. They end up grabbing a tub of ice cream (Strawberry or Wade riots) and sharing it on a bench, passing it between the sizable distance between them. The bench gets a rating of three squawky parrots. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the entire inspiration for this fic was the scene with Wade freaking out about Peter growing. I thought it was hilarious at the time and then somehow ended up with all the angst. 
> 
> Comments always appreciated~!
> 
> Come say hi on the [Tumbles](https://thetimidturnip.tumblr.com/)


	5. Chapter 5

"Think fast!"

A small object sails towards Peter’s head but he snatches it effortlessly out of the air. He turns it over in his palm, inspecting it. 

"You got me a shitty phone?" Peter dangles the phone between his fingers out in front of him.

"Uh, excuse you. That is a perfectly fine phone. It even has the snake game on it." 

Peter snorts. "It has  _ actual  _ buttons. And I already have a phone, one that has better games."

"Ungrateful child," Wade mumbles angrily under his breath. "It's a  _ burner _ phone. It doesn't have to be fancy."

"Oh.” 

“I might have gone overboard with how much money I put on it but it should be good for, well, for a few years.” 

“Sorry,  _ years _ ?” Peter almost drops the phone in his shock. 

“Of course,” Wade says proudly. “That way you don’t have to worry about it. I always make sure mine are good for at least a year.”

Peter stares at the shitty phone with the dawning realization that it probably costs a few hundred dollars. Wade is  _ crazy _ to spend that kind of money on Peter. 

“Thanks,” Peter chokes out, not sure what else he can say.

“No problem,” Wade preens. 

Peter has to fight Wade off from showing him how to use the phone. Just because he’s never had a phone with buttons doesn’t mean he can’t figure it out.

\---

Taking a deep breath and reaching for the courage he is supposed to have, Peter stammers out, “Hey, uh, so, it’s my birthday?”

Wade laughs. “Are you asking me?”

Peter clears his throat, embarrassed. “I turned seventeen today.”

“Seventeen!” Wade squeals. “You should have told me, I would have prepared a cake!”

“I don’t need a cake.” Peter frowns, he had a different topic of conversation in mind.

“No! I’m getting a cake!” Wade hollers as he runs off down the street. 

Peter just sighs and follows along after the way Wade ran. It’s easy to keep track of the man because he keeps periodically yelling out the word cake like he can’t forget what he’s rushing to get. It’s so stupid that is makes Peter smile. 

Peter waits outside the bakery he saw Wade disappear into. It’s not one he’s been to before, it’s  _ very  _ fancy. Which roughly translates to really expensive. It’s a wonder Wade doesn’t get kicked out for wearing his Deadpool suit in there but then again no one really wants to be the one to tell someone carrying an arsenal like Wade is to leave. 

It doesn’t take long for Wade to emerge holding much too large of a box. It’s like he got the largest cake they had, which Peter wouldn’t put past him. 

“I hope you don’t expect me to eat all that.”

“Scared it’ll go straight to your thighs?” Wade teases, as he sits down on the side of the curb and opens the box. “Look at this chocolate monstrosity and tell me you honestly don’t want to eat the whole thing.”

Peering into the box, Peter sees the largest cake anyone has ever dared get him for his birthday. It’s about twelve inches across and about just as high. There is a messy ‘Happy Birthday Spidey’ written across the top. It’s a disgusting amount of cake to eat and Peter really wants to see if he can manage it. 

“Where are the forks?” Peter says.

Wade flips out a fork from his palm. “Get at it then.”

Peter takes the fork while pushing up his mask with his free hand. He breaks off a large piece of cake and takes a bite. He can’t help the moan he makes at the taste. 

“This is the greatest thing I’ve put in my mouth.” Peter says around a second mouthful of cake.

Wade just squeaks. 

“You better be planning to help me with this.” Peter chastises. 

“Uh, nope, it’s all yours.” 

“Wade.” Peter sits back, willing himself to stop eating for just a moment. It’s  _ really  _ good cake. “Why do you never eat around me?”

Wade fidgets with the box in his lap, bending parts of the sides out of shape. “Just not hungry.”

“Ever? With the way you talk about food? I just don’t buy it.”

“It’s this medical thing. Can we not talk about it?" Wade whines. "I just want you to enjoy your birthday cake.”

Peter takes in the way Wade’s whole body tenses up. He wants to push the issue, enjoy the cake together but he also doesn’t want to risk Wade running off before he can work up the nerve to ask him something. So he pulls the box into his own lap and takes another bite. Peter eats until the thought of eating another bite makes him physically ill. 

“I don’t think I can move.” Peter whines, rubbing at his stomach. 

"You're going to look like a wrecking ball swinging through the city. Just a little round Spidey-ball crashing into buildings." Wade giggles, poking at Peter's gut.

Peter bats Wade's hand away. "You're the destructive one."

" I came in like a wrecking ball !" Wade sings loudly, and horribly off key.

Before Wade can sing anymore, Peter slams both of his hands over Wade's mouth. He's heard enough to know he doesn't ever want to hear Wade sing again. Even if it does have him laughing.

“So no future career as a pop sensation then?” Wade says nervously as he pushes Peter’s hands away.

“There is still hope for you as a back-up dancer?” Peter givers a small half smile.

"I would make an  _ amazing _ back-up dancer! I know  _ all  _ the moves." Humming a tune Peter isn't familiar with, Wade's right arm goes straight out in front of him. He does the same with the left before crossing them across his chest and bringing them up behind his head.

Whatever it is Wade is trying to do looks  _ ridiculous _ . It has Peter laughing, the cake box shakes in his lap. "That was closer to a seizure than a dance move."

Wade makes an affronted sound. "That was the  _ Macarena _ ! The classiest of dances! Don't they teach you anything important in school these days? The youth of today is really missing out."

"I was only taught the  _ cool  _ dances."

"You take that back! The Macerena is the  _ epitome _ of cool. Come on, we need to fix this."

Peter sets the cake box off to the side before standing up next to Wade. "I don't think looking like a fool is going to help anything." 

Somehow Wade manages to make pulling his phone out and putting on a song look very aggressive. Like they’re about to start a fight not a dance. The song starts to play and Wade proceeds to direct Peter through a series of movements that seem to repeat forever. The worst part is that people  _ join _ in. The strange looks are one thing, it’s what Peter expected to happen. People actually participating? Peter doesn't ever think he'll hear the end of this. Why do  _ so  _ many people know this dance? Wade ends up putting the song on for a second time and it's honestly a relief when a patrol car goes speeding past with the sirens blaring.

He doesn't even wait for Wade, he just shoots off a web and follows the car as quickly as he can. 

\---

Peter honestly thought that things would be different after his birthday. He wants to bring it up but it's not something you can just blurt out and there are no lead ins for this sort of conversation either. Especially since Wade won’t give a single chance for Peter to cut into the conversation. Why would Peter ever care about the life expectancy of a Silkie chicken? How could Wade think that’s  _ actually  _ something Peter wants to hear about. Blah blah, fluffy chicken. Peters tempted to tell Wade to just for once  _ shut  _ his stupid mouth.

“Seriously, they have so much attitude! Just goes around pecking anything it can get it’s little beak on, not to mention having fresh eggs is awesome, Webs.” Wade gushes.

“Wait, wait, I think I blacked out for a second there. Wade. Do you  _ own _ a chicken?” Peter asks, nearing hysterics. He only stopped listening for a second.

“Uh, yeah, and she has a name thank-you. You treat Becky with the respect she deserves.” Wade sniffs hotly, brushing dirt away from his thigh. 

“Okay, wow.” Peter stands from where he had been sitting on the edge of the roof. “I don’t think I can deal with this today.”

“Oh,” Wade fidgets where he sits. “Would you like an egg? Becky lays the best ones.” An egg is pulled from one of the pouches along his belt and Wade holds it out to Peter in offering. Miraculously there are no cracks in it. 

“That would be no,” Peter grits out, closes his eyes and counts to ten in an effort to calm himself. How is he even attracted to this man? He’s just going to blurt it out. Once it’s out in the open it can stop eating away at Peter. Then he’ll know. “I just thought that once I was seventeen you wouldn’t be so distant with me. I just- ugh, forget it.”

The egg gets dropped over the side of the building, Wade’s arm having gone slack like he forgot he was holding something. Someone shouts obscenities from down below on the street.

Peter inhales sharply, his words come out in a rambling mess like he can’t stop. “I’m seventeen and I wanted to know if you’re still interested in me because that’s what this has been about right? I was too young but I’m  _ not  _ now. I mean. It’s not a felony. And I really like you. It’s been two weeks since my birthday and I thought something would have  _ happened  _ by now. I thought, well, I just really like you. I thought maybe you liked me too? I would really like if you said something now.”

There is no response, the traffic below them seems louder with every passing second. It’s all Peter can focus on. It takes what seems like an eternity for Wade to do something, he pushes up from the ground and stands slowly. The muscles in his thighs flex and it has Peter wanting. 

“On one condition,” Wade says, his voice is strangely neutral. 

“I, uh, really?” Peter had not expected that.

“As long as you don’t flinch.” 

_ Flinch _ ? What could make Peter flinch? 

Wade takes a step closer. “I’m going to take my mask off and if you flinch or look away then you never bring this up again.” 

It’s true that Wade has never taken his mask off in front of Peter. Not even pushing it up part way so they could eat together. It never occurred to Peter that there could be a reason behind that which would have him  _ flinching  _ away from Wade. 

As Wade starts to pull his mask free, Peter can’t help but feel all the desire he’s tried to push down and lock away surface. He  _ wants _ . Stayed awake countless nights imagining this moment, wondering what Wade’s face looks like. He’s moving forward before he can stop himself, his fingers brushing along Wade’s to help push the mask up. Fingers wiggling to get under the mask, Peter can feel the way Wade’s adam’s apple bobs under his palm, feel the way his throat works when he swallows. The light looks weird and uneven against Wade’s skin, the mask is just up over his chin. Wade’s hands drop from where they were to the back of his own head and in one pull he has the mask off.

Peter flinches and jumps back, fighting down a scream. There are scars running over every surface of Wade’s skin, some so angry and red that they leave deep gouges. There is not one hair atop his head, nothing to hide the fact that those tortured lines run along every inch of his skin. It takes Peter longer to lock onto Wade’s eyes, those gorgeous blue eyes that look so defeated. Peter didn’t just  _ flinch _ he  _ jumped away. _

“I didn’t, I just, I had no way to expect.” Peter sobs out trying to step closer but Wade just moves back from him. 

“That was the deal,” Wade gives a small half smile.

Peter’s dreamed about getting to see that smile. “Please no.”

“Look at me Peter.” 

What does Wade think Peter has been doing? 

“I don’t let people see me like this.”

Peter tries to argue, ”It's not that bad.”

A sharp laugh breaks from Wade’s throat that makes Peter wince. “You can’t even keep your eyes on me, you keep looking away. Do you know what people say when I walk around like this?” Wade waves a hand to his face, his face stretches in an angry grin that makes the scars around his mouth stretch. “I know what you want, you think you want a  _ relationship _ .” Wade spits out the last word like it’s poison. 

It’s not even something Peter can deny. He’s never had the sort of fantasies other boys his age have of just sleeping with someone,  _ anyone _ . Peter wants the whole thing, he wants that with Wade. Wants to curl up next to him and have Wade makes weird jokes as he tosses stuffed sheep in the air for Peter to count as he falls asleep. He’s heard enough about pancakes that he knows Wade would make them for him in the morning. A whole mountain of them.

And. He. Flinched. 

How could Wade never have told him? What could have happened to Wade for him to look like that and for his body not to heal it? The sight of it makes Peter’s stomach roll.

“Look,” Wade runs his palm over his head, fingers dipping along the indents. “This face isn’t relationship material. I would destroy you. It would be slow. We’d never go out in public. I won’t meet your family. You’re young, you’d think it was fine. You’d lose contact with everyone else in your life. I’m not well adjusted. I’m controlling. I get jealous. You think just because you’re seventeen that makes it okay? That’s so young. Too young to know when to tell me off when I need it. I can’t be any of your firsts. Or even thirds. I’m the bad decision you make after a string of bad decisions.”

“So I’m being punished because I haven’t been with  _ other people?”  _

“That’s, well-” 

“Okay. So. How many people do you want?” 

“What?”

“Give me a number so I know where to stop. How many bad decisions do you want before I get a say in this? Do I just need to date them or do I need to  _ fuck  _ them all?”

“Please don’t do that.”

“ _ Then what do you want from me?” _ Peter screams. He doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know how to work past this moment.

“I want you to find someone better. Someone who can give you everything I can’t. We could never-” Wade looks away.

“But you want me.” Peter inhales sharply, his voice wavering. “Don’t you?”

“You should go home, Peter.” 

“So, I waited for nothing?” 

Wade shrugs his shoulders like Peter's pain doesn’t matter. "I didn't tell you to wait. I honestly thought you would get over your little crush eventually."

_ Little crush? _

"But I'm in love with you." 

Having Wade laugh in his face is not how he wanted his confession to be taken. Wade's clutching his stomach with the force of his laughter. He wipes a tear from his eye. "Oh wow, I did not think you would have the guts to say that once you saw my face. You’re a  _ child.  _ You know  _ nothing _ about love."

There have been a lot of moments that Peter has felt humiliated. This one takes the prize. Makes every moment before in his life feel like sunshine and roses. It never occurred to him that Wade could be so hurtful, so cruel. Not to him. So he turns and takes a running jump off the building. There is only so much he can take.

\---

The thought of trying to find someone who would be willing to date Peter seems impossible when he can’t even manage a simple  _ smile _ . How do other people do it? Gather up the energy to put themselves out there like that so that someone would just take a chance on them. 

Not that Peter really wants anyone else, every person he tries to talk to seems dull and lifeless compared to Wade. Where are the animated hand gestures? The horrible jokes and puns? It would be best to just give up now. 

There is no one out there for Peter Parker. 

He’s not sure how he’s supposed to move past Wade. If he could forget about ever meeting Deadpool in that alley, he would do so in a heartbeat. He doesn’t want to feel like this anymore. 

Days are blurring together to the point that he can’t tell which one is which anymore. He misses Wade and wonders if he shows up that they could pretend that night never happened. Peter wonders if he’ll ever be able to pretend such a thing. 

Forget Wade’s mocking laughter and the way it made his heart clench so tightly that it felt like it was shattering. Forget that every moment since that point has him feeling like his throat is closing up and he’s about to break down. He wants to destroy something, bring his pain into the physical world so it’s not just bottled up inside. 

Wade’s face haunts his dreams. Would he be able to look past the scar? It makes sense why Wade had never shown off any of his skin, those scars must run the entire length of his body. Would it feel strange to touch them? To run his fingers along each dent and dip.

The memory doesn’t seem to stop the pooling of arousal when Peter thinks about Wade leaning in close for the kiss he should have given Peter that night. It’s shameful that Peter still thinks of Wade when he wraps a hand around himself to bring himself relief. That he can’t help thinking of what he would have let Wade do to him on that rooftop if he just hadn’t flinched. 

But then he comes and he remembers the poison in Wade’s words and a wave of shame washes over him. The way Wade called him child with a stupid crush echoing in his mind.

If only was easy to just not think about it.

\---

An unfamiliar ringtone is going off in Peter’s room. It takes him longer than he would like to admit for him to figure out that he must be getting a call on the burner phone Wade gave him. Peter is frantic as he flings himself across the room to search through the drawers in his desk. He barely manages to find it in time. He doesn't say a word when he answers.

"Congratulations, you've won an all inclusive trip to Jack's Pizza!"

Despite the fact that he is still very much angry at Wade, Peter laughs. 

"Oh, I've missed that." Wade says with a sigh. "I haven't seen you in a while." 

Gritting his teeth in frustration, Peter pulls the phone away from his face. It takes a minute for him to regain his composure enough the answer. He can’t believe Wade has the nerve to miss Peter after what he said. "I just need some space right now."

"It's already been a couple months though."

“Maybe it’s difficult for me to be around you.”

There’s a soft inhale from the other end of the phone. Then nothing for over a minute. 

“Wade?” Peter asks.

“How long do you need?”

The truth is that Peter has been dying to see Wade, wants to be around him more than anything. Hear him laugh. It hurts to be away but he also knows that he can’t be around Wade and not want to wrap his arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss. It’s impossible not to think about. Impossible not to think about how good it would feel to have Wade’s hands running up his sides, fingers pressing in hard as he’s tugged closer. 

The fact that Wade doesn’t want that as well is an open wound that refuses to heal. 

But not seeing Wade hurts just as much.

“Just give me one more day. We can meet up tomorrow night.” 

“Okay, tomorrow.” 

There is no goodbye, just the sound of the phone disconnecting to let Peter know Wade is gone. He’s not entirely sure if he made the right decision.

\---

Peter can’t bring himself to drop down to the ground from where he’s hiding on top of a building. He can see Wade down on the street waiting for him, pacing back and forth like he can’t stand to be still. Just the sight of him makes Peter smile and heart ache all at once. Steeling his nerves, Peter goes to the side of the building and walks down the length of it into the alley. He takes his time, going at a leisurely pace. The whole day Peter spent trying to come up with something to say to try and clear the air. So naturally he has no idea what to say now that the time has come. 

Wade notices him as soon as Peter exits the alley and rushes over like an overeager puppy. For a moment it seems like Wade is going to lift Peter up off the ground in a giant bear hug, only he skids to a halt before getting too close. Which has Peter thinking that he’s made Wade paranoid to touch him in fear that Peter will take it the wrong way.  _ Great.  _ Like it wasn’t bad enough before.

They stand awkwardly around each other, unsure of how to greet each other. It’s Wade who breaks the silence first. 

“I, uh, got you something?” 

Those words shouldn’t make Peter’s heart flutter but Wade thinking about him enough to get him something does. Peter holds his hand out expectantly. 

Wade laughs, some of the tension in his shoulders disappearing. “I was just thinking it would come in handy for your patrols.” 

Digging into one of his pouches, Wade brings out a small black box. He screws an antenna on the top and it clicks in Peter’s mind that it's some form of radio. “What’s it do?” 

“This,” Wade waves the small devices out in front of himself, “is a radio scanner that can pick up police channels. We can listen in for any emergencies.” 

Peter reaches out and takes the radio scanner, frowning. He should have known it would be work related. Still, it will come in handy. “Thanks.”

Wade shows him how to adjust the scanner to pick up on the different frequencies. They actually manage to catch a burglary in progress because of it. Peter even gets a high five from Wade for managing to web the assailant to a lamp post. Which is probably the most physical interaction Peter can expect to receive going forward. 

\---

They’re sitting alone, atop a building. The moon high in the sky. If Wade wasn’t refusing to look Peter’s way, it could almost be like a date. Wade doesn’t really look at Peter anymore though.

“I want to show you how to wield a sword.”

“I don’t want a sword.” Peter frowns, clasping his hands together. 

“If you know how to use one it will be easier for you to understand how to dodge one.” Wade leans back, using his hands to keep himself propped up. His torso is stretched out, taut. 

Peter hates how good it looks. “Do I get to use one of yours?”

“One of my babies? Oh no. They aren’t for learning with. I was thinking something a little easier. Something I wouldn’t cry over if you broke.”

“You cry over dropped tacos, I don’t think that’s a good metric for what’s important.” Peter scoffs. 

“I already got one for you.” Wade pulls out a short blade from a sheath he had strapped to his thigh. 

“That a knife.”

“It’s a  _ short _ sword. It’s perfect for you!” 

“Because I’m short?”

“No,  _ well  _ kinda. It’s quick. It would be easy for you to get in close and just.” Wade stabs the blade out, twisting it up.

“Only, I’m never actually going to use it.”

Wade pulls the blade back into his lap and runs his thumb along the edge. “You should keep it, you never know when you might need one to defend yourself. It would be handy for those times you can’t reveal your strength. If you’re caught without your suit or something.”

“Because a conversation on how I own and know how to wield a sword is somehow better?” 

“Easier to explain than superpowers.” 

Peter sighs, rubbing at his temples in frustration. “You’re not going to let me leave without it, are you?”

“Nope!” Wade says cheerfully.

There might be a few places Peter could get away with stashing the sword in his room without Aunt May finding it. Peter can’t believe he’s actually going to take the stupid thing. 

“I guess you better show me how to use the damn thing then.”

“Swords are awesome, you’ll see.” Wade says cheerfully, tossing the sword up in the air. It spins in an elegant ark, rotating just enough so that the handle is the first thing Peter grabs. 

The blade is light in Peter’s hand, it’s double-edged and looks deadly sharp. Peter gives a practice swing, the blade moving easily through the air. 

“You need to know how far your reach is, get all intimate with it. You need to know what you can accomplish, where to stand.” 

The blade seems to have good balance, not that Peter knows much about that thing. He jabs the blade upwards, down and slashes it to the side. Peter watches the movement of the blade, tries to make it precise. Tries to make the same movements, to mimic the sorts of things he’s seen Deadpool do. 

“You look good with it,” Wade says quietly. 

Peter almost drops the sword, his eyes snapping up to find Wade watching him.  _ Shit.  _ Having Wade’s gaze on him has Peter feeling flustered, it’s felt like forever since he’s held Wade’s attention like that. If only Peter was the only thing that held Wade’s attention.  _ As if. _

“You need to fix your stance though, try and keep your left foot further back.”

Peter adjusts his foot back before swinging the sword again. “I feel medieval with this thing.”

“I figured you wouldn’t accept a gun so it’s the next best thing. Plus swords are perfect for fighting ninjas.”

“Yeah, but how often does that come up?”

Wade snorts out a laugh. “More often than you think. Honestly surprised we haven’t fought any yet. I think our writer’s lazy.” 

“There’s always tomorrow.”

“Actually,” Wade clears his throat, “I’ve got a job. It’s out of country. I’m going to be gone for a while.”

Peter’s arm drops down, the sword swinging beside his leg. “So, this is a going away present? How long are you going to be gone?”

“It might be a couple of months.”

Peter doesn’t want to ask, “is the job to kill someone?”

“More like a lot of someones. I understand if you don’t want to see me when I get back.”

“Do they deserve it?”

Crossing his arms across his chest, Wade looks Peter over. “I thought no one deserved death.” 

“Just answer the question.” Peter grits his teeth in frustration.

“Death is too swift of a punishment for the atrocities they’ve committed.”

“I trust your judgment, that what you’re doing is the right thing.”

“You shouldn’t. You shouldn't be changing your morals over someone like me.”

“You’re a good person Wade.”

“If I was a good person I wouldn’t still be hanging around you.” Wade turns away from Peter.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Wade sighs, pushing himself up from his spot on the roof. “I should get going. I have a flight to catch.”

“What about teaching me to use this stupid thing?” Peter waves the sword in the air.

“Look up youtube videos, isn’t that what you kids do these days to learn things?”

Frowning, Peter drops the sword to his side. If it wasn’t unwelcome, Peter would give Wade a hug goodbye. Instead he gives a little wave to Wade’s back as he walks away and disappears through the roof access door. There is a sheath on the ground where Wade was sitting so Peter goes to collect it and put the sword away. He’s not really sure what he’s going to do with the thing. It’s not like Wade actually showed him how to use it properly.

He’s not even sure why Wade really gave it to him. Does he think Peter that incapable? He hopes Wade isn’t gone too long. 

\---

It’s weird to miss someone’s presence to the point that it aches. It’s only been two months. How long do missions take? He feels like he’d just gotten Wade back only to lose him again. Peter has so many questions and no answers. He’s tried calling Wade a number of times with no luck. There are reports of a militant government in the middle east being overturned, it’s the closest Peter has come to figuring out what Wade might have been up to. That ended a month ago though. So. Wade should be  _ home _ . 

Peter has himself convinced that Wade got caught up in something and ended up being needed somewhere else. At least he does right up until the point where he reads about Deadpool taking on a gang in Hell's Kitchen. There isn't a surviving member of the gang to confirm the story but Peter knows Wade enough to know it was him.

Peter wants to be mad that Wade is killing but somehow it hurts worse that Wade seems to think he can't talk to Peter about it. That he’s back in town and apparently avoiding Peter. 

He doesn’t understand why Wade keeps doing this to him. Drawing Peter back into his life just to shut him out and ignore him the next. 

\---

He feels so wrung out, he doesn’t know how to go through this heartache again. Wade’s not calling, not answering the many messages Peter’s left him. He practically a ghost in the city, impossible to track down. 

When he stops to try and sleep he thinks of Wade. Thinks about the jokes that leave his sides aching from laughter and the soft grip of his hands when he was still willing to touch Peter. He misses the way his smile looked without the mask. What would it feel like to have those lips pressed against his? 

Those sorts of thoughts only lead to madness so Peter stops sleeping. He doesn’t stop moving, doesn’t give himself a chance to be tired and his mind to wander. The nights blur together into the days as he spends every moment either at school or in the suit. He knows he needs to stop, he can tell he’s moving slower than he should be. It’s still faster than the criminals so it can’t be all that bad. 

Tonight is different. Peter catches a glimpse of a couple men in tactical gear before they disappear in through the back of a fancy looking building, those aren’t small time thugs. When Peter swings around the front there are banners advertising a fundraiser for underprivileged youth in a country Peter can’t pronounce. Crawling around the outside walls Peter is able to glimpse inside and get a feeling for the situation.

They have every exit covered at the fundraiser event they seem to be hijacking, there are lots of very wealthy and influential people in attendance so it’s hard to know what their angle could be. These guys aren’t messing around either, Peter has spent enough time with Wade to know they are carrying military grade weapons.They could be here for anyone or just to rob everyone blind. Lucky for Peter they don’t have the high up windows covered so it’s easy enough to slip inside. 

It’s a tricky situation, Peter could easily take on the assailants if there wasn’t anyone else in the room but as it is the attendees are all huddled in the center, looking like every bit the high socialites they probably are. Jewelry glints around most of their necks and just one of them could probably pay for Peter to go to college. 

It’s a wide open space, tables lining the walls. It would be so easy for a stray bullet to hit someone. It should be fine as long as Peter sticks to the walls and keeps their fire directed outwards. Easy peasy.

Knowing that if he acts fast enough he thwips out two quick bursts of webs and is able to get the two men closest to him before they even notice his presence. They are plastered to the floor and not going anywhere anytime soon. Only four more to go. Shots are fired Peter’s way, hitting too close for comfort into the wall.

It has Peter sweating. “I don’t think swiss cheese walls is the sort of aesthetic these fine folks are going for, guys.” 

“You’re going to be next if you don’t get out of here Spider-man.” One of the men shouts back.

“And miss a chance to crash one of the top parties of the year? No way, I’m not getting thrown out of another party.” Peter jumps onto the ceiling and runs along the outside length of it hoping to get back behind to men. Flipping down off the ceiling he lets loose another burst of webs, hoping to get a few more of the men. He manages to get one, his spider sense going haywire while bullets go buzzing past him on all sides. His arm stings for a moment before the adrenaline pushes the pain away. It’s probably just a graze. 

Peter attaches a line to one of the chandeliers hanging, his arc ends up wider as the chandelier swings with his web. He lets go as he comes back around, aiming for one of the men. He lands on top of him, his momentum carrying them both down to the floor. He kicks the gun away and webs his torso to the ground. There should be two left. 

When he looks up to evaluate the room he finds that there are four men standing, guns trained on him. Where did the other two come from? “You guys aren’t multiplying right now are you? Because I would much prefer to be bad at math right now.”

Peter feels sluggish as he flips off to the side, his spider sense ringing in his ear as a constant buzz, becoming unreliable. He needs to finish this off quickly. He jumps to the wall, twisting so his feet hit first and he can bounce off to the side. Two more of the men get webbed to the floor but his thigh is stinging in two places. He’s not moving fast enough. If only he had been taking care of himself. Actually sleeping and eating. He wishes he had Wade to watch his back.

He leaps to the ceiling and pushes off it, diving down towards one of the men. His vision blurs as he starts to fall off to the side, not where he intended. He hits the ground, tumbling across it. A sense of numbness is blooming from his left shoulder. He can’t feel his arm, not sure if he can even wiggle his fingers. Every breath feels sharp and quick. His heart beat skyrocketing. When he touches his shoulder with his right hand and pulls it away his hand comes back dripping blood. 

A shadow falls across him, the black outline of one of the men’s tactical armor swimming into view. Peter jumps to his feet, his body screaming at him. He doesn’t even try to be elegant about his attack, he just runs at the man and headbutts him in the chest knocking him back. He manages to web the man to the floor before he can get back up. 

The last of the men seems to have taken a different approach, he has his gun trained on the hostages in the center of the room. 

“I’m getting out of here, Spider-Man.”

“Yeah, I don’t think you’re allowed to pass GO with a hostage.” Peter’s words come out slurred together. 

The woman is trembling in the man’s arms, tears streaking her face. The bracelets on her wrists are clinking together, it’s all Peter can focus on. He doesn’t know how to get her free, not with the way the gun is trained to her head. Wade would know what to do. Wade wouldn’t be hesitating like this, watching the guy slowly back up to the door. 

Knowing he’s got to act fast, Peter sprints forward needing to close the distance before webbing out a line to the tip of the gun and pulling hard. The gun goes off just as Peter is pulling it away and towards himself and he finds himself, for the second time that night, with a bullet in him. There isn’t time to stop, so Peter pushes past the pain in his right thigh and leaps at the bastard who ruined his suit. His fist connects with the man’s face, dropping him to the floor. Peter webs him the the ground.

“Thank-you, oh thank-you Spider-man.” The woman sobs out behind Peter. 

Peter can’t even gather the energy to respond. He just gives a slight nod as he hobbles away. He ignores the people’s pleas that he should stay so someone can look at his wounds but that just can’t happen. He can’t go to a hospital. Can’t have someone look over him. 

Instead he webs himself up to one of the windows and crawls out of the building. He tries to swing home but finds the process excruciating, he can’t use his whole left side and he can’t seem to focus enough to swing with one arm. He drops down into an alley and slumps against a dumpster, smearing his blood along the side. Alleys always stink, he needs to stop spending so much time in them. Sliding down the length of the dumpster, Peter finds himself sitting in something wet. Something he probably shouldn’t let his opens wounds touch. He breaks out into a laugh, thinking about all the blood he’s left lying around tonight. Wade’s going to be so mad.

He wonders if a taxi would give him a ride with the way he’s bleeding everywhere. Everything aches, his shoulder and thigh feel like they’re on fire. He makes the mistake of glancing down at his leg, he can’t even see where he was shot or what the total number of injuries are. The blood makes it impossible. He knows he should be doing something to stop the bleeding but it hurts to much when he tries to get up. It’s better when he doesn’t move. He hasn’t stopped moving for days. If he can just rest for a moment he can find the energy to get home. 

He only needs to close his eyes for a second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry?


	6. Chapter 6

Dimly aware that he’s being carried, Peter wakes enough to take in the familiarity of the red and black of Deadpool’s costume. It comforting in Wade’s arms, despite the jostle of his quick step as he takes Peter somewhere. Wade is muttering a constant stream of words that have Peter drifting back off. 

When Peter wakes again it’s to the pain of something digging into his shoulder, something snaps under the pressure of his hand. He’s pretty sure the sobs are coming from himself but they feel so distant. 

Wade is making small cooing noises, his voice soft in Peter’s ear. “Sweety, you have to let go of my arm. I need to finish patching you up.”

Peter doesn’t know how to make his hand listen to him, everything hurts and he just wants it to stop. Fingers rub gently across his cheek as Wade continues to make soothing sounds. He hacks out a sob and finally releases Wade.

“That’s is, you’re doing so good. I’ve got the right dosage now, I’m gonna make it all better. You’ll see.”

There is the sharp pressure of a needle sliding into the flesh of his throat and everything goes soft as he drifts off again.

This time when he wakes up, he finds himself tucked into the biggest, softest bed he’s ever had the privilege of being in. Even the display ones in stores aren't this nice. There is an abundance of pillows on all sides, the softest fake fur blanket under a large quilt that seems like air. There is a stuffed unicorn tucked in against Peter. There are a few other stuffed animals poking up out of the pillows but it’s hard to make out what they all are. 

Peter can’t help but snuggle down further into the nest despite the fact that he’s sweating under so much. The care with which everything is placed around him speaks volumes, Wade actually cares. He came for Peter when he needed him. No one would go through this much trouble for someone they can’t stand. It makes Peter feel like maybe there is a way to fix things. 

Peter wants to stay bundled up in the warmth of Wade’s bed forever, only his bladder seems to have different ideas about that. It’s not easy trying to get out of the bed, namely because none of Peter’s muscles seem to want to work. He ends up wiggling out of the covers to the edge of the bed and sliding his feet off to hit the floor. When his left foot makes contact it makes his thigh ache from where he was shot. There are bandages wrapped cleanly around the width of it. 

Peter’s a little surprised to find himself out of his suit. Embarrassed that Wade saw his pink boxer briefs, they’re a little well worn. There are  _ holes _ . He’s wearing a shirt that is much too large for him, the sleeves coming down to his elbows despite the fact that it’s a t-shirt. Surprisingly his mask is still in place, only pushed up over his nose. It’s not the most comfortable of feelings so Peter pulls the whole thing off. He doesn’t want to hide from Wade anyways. It’s only fair that Wade should get to see his face since he saw Wade’s.

He wobbles when he pushes up to his feet and for a brief moment he thinks he’s going to face plant right into the carpet. Luckily he manages to stay upright, his muscles straining with the effort it takes. He’s not used to feeling so run down. Taking it slow, he puts one foot in front of the other and makes his way to the door. He does his best to swing it open without making a sound, the sound of the TV playing softly filters down the hallway. The bathroom is right across the hall, the door is open making it obvious even if there wasn’t a restroom sign plastered to the front of the door. It’s looks stolen, possibly from a mexican restaurant if the little tacos along the edge are any indication. The sight of it has Peter grinning. 

The bathroom itself is surprisingly clean. If the lingering scent of chemicals and lemon are any indication it was  _ very  _ recently cleaned. Peter wastes no time in emptying his bladder, he has to grip the wall to keep himself from toppling over. It probably would have been wise to just sit down. He washes his hands quickly, lightly toweling them off. 

When he opens the door it’s a shock to find Wade right outside and more so to have him shriek as he quickly covers his eyes with his hands. Wade isn’t wearing his mask, he stands before Peter in a simple hoodie and sweats with his bare toes curling into the carpet. “Your mask fell off!” 

Peter frowns as he leans against the doorjamb. “I took it off, Wade. You can look at me.”

“No, no, no way. No how. You have to go put it back on.” Wade whines.

“Look at me,” Peter whispers as he leans in closer to Wade. He takes each of Wade’s hands in his own and gently tugs at them. Wincing at the use of his left shoulder. “Please, Wade.”

It takes a moment for Wade to relent and let his hands be pulled away from his face. His eyes are still firmly shut, crinkling the scars around them. It’s easier to look at them this time. They feel like they are a part of Wade and Peter wants  _ all  _ of Wade. Even the scars. He’s had a lot of time to think about it. 

“You should go back to bed, Spidey.” 

“Look at me and I’ll do anything you want.”

Wade makes a pitiful sounding whimper, his shoulders shaking. “You almost bled out in an alley, you should go back to bed.”

Perhaps, if that wasn’t true Peter would feel guilty over his actions. As it is he’s been waiting far too long for this moment. He let’s go of Wade’s hand so he can cup the man’s face with them. He rubs his thumb along Wade’s jaw just to feel what it’s like. “Wade, open your eyes.”

One opens ever so slowly, before the second one. Wade blinks a few times before focusing down on Peter. From his expression it’s like the sight of Peter pains him. 

“Am I not what you imagined?” Peter draws his hands back to himself.

It’s a surprise when one of Wade’s hands shoots out for one of Peter’s. He lets go just as quickly as if he thinks he’s not allowed to do such a thing. “You’re better than anything I could have ever dreamed. You’re always better.”

“Then why do you keep  _ leaving _ ?” Peter sobs out. 

“I was trying to stay away, someone like me shouldn’t be in your life. I just know I’m going to ruin you and I don’t think I could live with myself if that happened.”

“You  _ won’t _ , you would never do anything like that to me. You’re the one that keeps me whole. Puts me back together.” 

“I don’t. You have no idea the things I would do to you.”

“I want to know, I want it.” Peter flings his arms up around Wade’s neck, he has to go up on the tips of his toes despite the fact that he pulls Wade down as well just so he can slot their mouths together. It’s nothing more than a quick press of his lips but it lights Peter’s whole body on fire. He presses in again, this time lingering. The feeling of Wade’s lips on his own leaves his own tingling. How long has he dreamed of this moment?

He knows in theory that he’s supposed to be doing something with his lips. So he rolls his bottom lip against Wade’s, hoping for some reaction. For anything. He darts his tongue out quickly and it’s that action that suddenly spurs Wade on, his arms circling around Peter’s lower back. Peter doesn’t even know how to keep up with the way Wade’s lips move against his own or the way his tongue licks along Peter’s lower lip and into his mouth. Wade’s hands move lower, smoothing over Peter’s ass before clutching them in his hands, his fingers kneading into the flesh. It has Peter gasping into the kiss, his toes just barely touching the ground as Wade lifts him up higher. They press flush against each other and Wade slowly walks them back to the bedroom, Peter doing his best to shuffle backwards on the tips of his toes and not trip.

Peter feels like he’s being devoured, he barely has time to catch his breath between each press of Wade’s hungry lips. The backs of his knees hit the mattress and they go tumbling back onto the bed. It makes his wounds twinge at the impact, making Peter wince in pain.

Wade presses a quick couple of kisses along Peter’s jaw before pulling back. Peter feels flushed and needy, wanting nothing more than to pull Wade back down on top of himself. 

“Please tell me that wasn’t your first kiss,” Wade asks quietly. 

_ Was it that obvious? _ Peter’s silence does all the answering for him, he turns his face away into the blankets on the bed. 

Wade sighs as he stands up from the bed. “I’m going to get some food. You’re probably hungry.” 

The door softly clicks closed as Wade leaves the room. Peter can hear him moving around grabbing things before the front door opens and is slammed shut. The only sound after that is of Peter’s heavy breathing. 

_ Did he really just do that? _ That’s not the sort of thing you do to your friend. Wade isn’t going to want to have Peter around anymore knowing there’s a chance Peter’s going to jump him like that. He ruined their friendship. Was Wade disgusted by the inexperience of Peter’s kissing? Peter wants to know why he kissed back, was it just to direct Peter back to bed? He can’t help but think that he’s destroyed  _ everything _ . Any chance he had is gone. Wade couldn’t even stand to stay in the same room with Peter after what he did.

And he can’t breathe. He’s trying but all he can manage is sharp little inhales, too quick to do any good. He needs to slow down but the ceiling is spinning, blurring together from the way his eyes water.  _ Everything is ruined.  _ He turns onto his side, putting pressure on his wounded shoulder. He focuses on the pain, presses down even harder. Runs his hand along the one on his thigh and digs his fingers into the worst of it, crying out from the burst of pain. It grounds him, he’s able to take a deep breath. He lays that way, slowly pressing against his wounds as tears slowly trickle down his cheeks.

He’s not sure how long it’s been but he knows he should get his act together before Wade comes back. He doesn’t think he should let Wade see him in such a pitiful state. Crying over a  _ kiss _ . It’s more than that to Peter though. For one moment he thought maybe it wasn’t all him. Why does he keep trying to give himself hope?

The bed dips and a gentle hand rubs along Peter’s back. Wade makes a soothing shushing sound as he tries to coax Peter’s hand from where it pushes into his thigh. There is blood on Peter’s fingers. 

“Come on baby boy, don’t do that. I’ve got you so you can stop crying now, okay?” There is no judgement in Wade’s voice, no flinching from the blood. He just takes Peter’s hand in his own and uses it to pull Peter up into a sitting position. “I got you pizza.”

Peter blinks away the tears to look at Wade who is giving him a very concerned look. The way his brow is bunched together for some inexplicable reason has Peter bursting out laughing. Nothing about his situation feels real, getting to finally be in Wade’s bed because he almost died. Getting to finally kiss him but only because Wade didn’t want to push him away because of his injuries. At least they’ll finally be able to eat a meal together and it won’t just be Peter eating by himself, or so he hopes. 

“What kind of pizza?” Peter asks. If Wade wants to pretend nothing happened Peter can do that. 

Wade eyes him warily, pulling back enough to grab at one of the boxes on the edge of the bed. “Got you a pepperoni with mushroom. Whole one to yourself so you won’t be stealing any of mine. Let me grab you something to wash your hands.” 

Giving Peter’s hands one last glance, Wade gets up and leaves the room. He comes back a moment later with a wet washcloth. He tosses it at Peter who quickly uses it to clean the blood from his hands. Not sure what to do with the soiled rag, he holds onto it awkwardly until Wade sighs and plucks it from his hands. It's tossed into the corner of the room with no real care. 

Peter stomach grumbles so he makes grabby hands at the pizza box on the edge of the bed. When Wade tries to pass it to him, he snatches it out of his hands and pulls it into his lap. He wipes his eyes with his arm before flipping open the top of the box and taking a large slice. Folding the slice in half, he downs the entire thing in four quick bites. “Damn I’m hungry, how long was I out?” 

Wade clears his throat as he looks away. “You were out for a full day.” 

“No wonder I’m starving,” Peter says around a mouthful. He always needs more food while he heals, he could probably go for another large pizza after finishing off this one.

Peter only stop shoveling food in his face when he notices Wade open the second pizza box and take a bite of his horrible choice in pizza. It’s sort of mesmerizing to watch the way Wade’s throat works as he swallows. There is blush creeping up Peter’s face as he forces himself to look away and take another bite of his own.

It’s awkward how they don’t talk while they’re eating since silence isn’t really their  _ thing _ . Wade always has  _ something  _ to say. Not that Peter can bring himself to be the first one to break the silence. So he eats slice after slice without pause, somehow polishing off the entire thing. Wade holds out his box in offering with a small grunt. Giving a small smile, Peter takes one of the slices, doing his best to nibble at it slowly so Wade doesn’t keep offering up his pizza. It seems greedy to eat a whole pizza and ask for more. That and Wade has gotten his pineapple and olive abomination again. It’s actually good but Peter will never admit it.

It’s when there is nothing left that the panic settles in for Peter. His mouth feels dry, his tongue darts out to wet his lips. There are a million things he wants to say but none of them feel good enough.

Thankfully Wade is the first to speak. “You probably should call home.” 

“Yeah,” Peter croaks out. Aunt May is probably beside herself with worry. It should have been the first thing on Peter’s mind. “Can I borrow a phone?”

“Yeah of course.” Wade takes the boxes with him when he gets up, disappearing down the hallway with them. Peter uses the minute alone to try and collect himself. Wade comes back shortly with a phone in hand and tosses it across the room. Peter catches it easily out of the air with his good arm. 

Peter rolls the phone back and forth in his hands. When he calls he’ll have to head home and there is a very good chance that Wade is never going to want to see Peter again. Not after what he did. This is his only opportunity to make sure the distance between them doesn’t grow larger. That they have a chance to remain friends or at the very least patrol together.

“Wade,” Peter croaks out. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

Wade flinches back. “Why the hell are  _ you _ apologizing? I’m the adult! I shouldn’t have, fuck, I should never ever have touched you like that. Touched your perfectly perky little ass. Fuck. I mean. I’m  _ so  _ sorry. I’m a fucking sleaze ball. I’m trash, worse than trash.”

“You like my ass?” Peter can’t help but perk up at the thought.

“Shit, did I say that? No. I hate your ass. I never think about it. Did I say something? I don’t even know english. I  _ never _ think about you like that! I’m not obsessed with you or anything.” Wade shouts out as he slowly backs away towards the door.

“Wade, do you  _ like  _ me?” Peter cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth. It seems like such a juvenile way to phrase it.

“Like you?” Wade scoffs. “No way.”

“Wade, I need you to be honest with me because I think I’m going crazy from all the whiplash. Sometimes I feel like you feel everything I do, that you want me just as much as I want you. Then in the next moment I feel like you’re tearing my heart from my chest and spitting on it. I know you turned me down. I know I should give up and leave it be but I  _ can’t _ . There is no one else out there that even compares to a fraction of what you are. You’re all I want.”

“Peter, I  _ can’t. _ Don’t let me hurt you like that. You’ll move on eventually.”

“I’m not though. I can’t move past wanting you and it’s killing me. Just tell me the truth, I can handle it. Just tell me I’m crazy and I’ll go home.”

“Everyone I’ve ever loved has died or worse. I  _ ruin _ people and I can’t let you be on that list.” 

Peter feels his heart beating in his throat, he tries to swallow it back down. “Yeah but they weren’t Spider-Man.”

“Spiders can be squished.”

“So I don’t get to decide if it’s a risk I’m willing to take?”

“You’re too young, you have a whole life to live. You don’t want to ruin it with the likes of me.”

“You make me laugh. You protect me and put me back together when I fall. You always make sure I eat. I don’t understand how you’re ruining me.”

“I’m a fucking  _ killer. _ How do you not see that? Do you even know the kinds of things I’ve done? That I’ve  _ enjoyed?  _ Do you not see the way you’ve already started to overlook the things I’ve done? I can’t let you keep doing that.”

Peter shifts and inches himself to the edge of the bed. It hurts to stand but he doesn’t let it show. Wade backs away from him as Peter walks closer. Peter chases him out the room and until he has Wade backed into the wall in the hallway. His hands tremble as he reaches up to Wade’s face, he wishes they didn’t. Cupping Wade’s face in his palms, Peter looks right into those blue eyes. “Doing bad things doesn’t make you a bad person. You are a good person, Wade. Someone who spends everyday trying to be better. I want to be there for all of it, so why won’t you let me?”

“You deserve someone nice and sweet. Someone normal. Someone that doesn’t look they’ve been deep fried.”

“Do I seem normal to you? Why would I want someone like that? Someone I would have to lie to every night as I climb out the window to web up criminals, that’s what you want for me? Someone who can’t watch my back, someone I can’t share being Spider-man with? Someone dull and mundane would drive me  _ insane _ . You challenge me.” Peter tightens his grip on Wade’s face knowing what he’s about to say may make the man flee. “I know what you look like, and so what if your skin isn’t perfect? I like how big you are, your physique is  _ drool  _ worthy, and I love your smile. You keep saying you don’t want to hurt me but you are everytime you leave.”

“I don’t know why you would miss someone like me. I have to put distance between us because I’m scared if I don’t leave, I’ll never let you go,” Wade confesses. “If I get a taste of you I’ll want more and more. I’ll push you too far and you’ll want to go and I won’t  _ let _ you. I’m the bad guy.”

“But you do want me?”

“I can’t.”

“Please, just be honest. Wade, do you want me?”

Looking into Peter’s eyes, Wade whispers, “more than anything in the world.”

Peter can’t help it when breaks out in a large grin and laughs. “Then I’m pretty sure you should be the one scared that I’m never going to leave. All I want to do is climb into your life. I doubt you could push me too far.”

“I’ve got  _ weird  _ appetites. Of the sexual kind.” Wade squeaks out, eyes wide.

“Who says I don’t?”

Wade scoffs, “how would you know?”

“Exactly, won’t it be fun to find out together? Can’t I want to explore that with you?”

“Peter,” Wade whines. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then stop leaving me. Stop running from this.”

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you, all I want is to protect you. Even if it’s from me.”

Peter searches Wade’s eyes for the lie, finding none. “That part hurt the worst.”

“I’m scared,” Wade whispers. 

“Me too, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.”

It might not be how Peter pictured it but he knows when he’s won. He knows Wade will relent and he can’t help but grin over it. Raising up onto the tips of his toes, Peter presses his lips back where they belong. 

Wade pulls back from the kiss and rests his forehead against Peter’s, sighing deeply. “I still think you’re too young for an old fart like me. That this is going to crash and burn.”

“I’ll grow, it won’t seem like such a big deal in a few years and I plan to be around for a long time.” Peter can’t help but tilt his head slightly so he can steal another kiss. It’s easily his new favorite thing. 

“Sex has to be off the table for now. Just until we know that this can last. And maybe once teen is no longer in your age.”

“You want me to wait till I’m  _ twenty. _ ” Peter pinches at Wade’s cheek. 

“Ouch, okay, maybe we can come to some sort of negotiation.” 

“I’ll negotiate all you want just so long as I know that we’re doing this. Boyfriends or whatever.” Peter shrugs like it’s not a big deal despite the fact that his face has gone completely red. 

The fiendish smile he gets from Wade makes asking worthwhile. “That’s what you want? Boyfriends?”

Peter nods his head vigorously. 

“Okay, boyfriends is a little fast, maybe we can start with a date. Something that doesn’t end at a crime scene.” Wade takes one of Peter’s hands in his own and brings it up to his lips so he can lay kisses across his knuckles. “I’m lucky you would even consider me. That you still want to be around me at all.”

Peter feels like the opposite is true. He’s the lucky one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still some lose ends to tie up with these boys, but they've finally gotten around to admitting feelings. Good for them.
> 
> Come say hi on the [Tumblr](https://thetimidturnip.tumblr.com/)


	7. Chapter 7

It shouldn’t be so nerve racking to be meeting up with Wade, it’s something they’ve already done hundreds of times. This time though, Peter isn’t wearing the Spider-man suit. This time he has on his best button up and nicest pair of jeans that don’t have holes in them. This time it’s a  _ real _ date and not just Peter wishing it was one. His palms are sweating so badly he’s wiping them on his jeans once a minute.

He wishes he hadn’t bothered to show up so early, he’s already been waiting around for half an hour and the bench he’s sitting on is making his ass go numb. He keeps contemplating if he should run and pick up something for Wade, what are you supposed to get someone on a first date? Should he have picked up flowers, would Wade even like that? Maybe he can ask Wade what his favorite type of flower is and get them for him on the next date. But what if Wade doesn’t want another date? 

_ Oh shit. _ Peter leans forwards and buries his face in his hands. He just knows he’s going to mess this up. He’s never been on a date before and it’s not like they can go anywhere  _ fun  _ with Peter being under twenty-one. 

Peter gets so caught up in his own thoughts he doesn’t even notice Wade sitting down next to him until he feels Wade’s palm hot on the back of his neck. It stays there, rubbing small circles into the edge of his hairline, twirling the strands between his fingers.

“You nervous about something, Petey-pie?” 

The smile Wade gives him when he glances up more than calms Peter’s nerves. He melts into the touch, wanting Wade to keep his hand there always. He changes his mind when Wade moves his hand further up, nails scraping along his scalp and he pushes Peter’s hair up in every direction. He wants Wade to do  _ that _ forever. If he was a cat he’s sure he would be purring at the sensation, as it is he lets out a low groan that has both of their faces turning beet red.

Wade reluctantly pulls his hand back and clears his throat. “Are you hungry? What am I asking, of course you are. You always are.”

Peter nods his head and takes in Wade’s appearance. It took some convincing on Peter’s part for Wade to show up without a mask on but he still has a ballcap on with the hood of his jacket pulled up over it. The most important part of Wade is visible though, those gorgeous blue eyes and that electric smile. He’s happy Wade agreed to show up like this. “Yup, that’s me the bottomless pit. I can’t get enough in me.”

Wade makes a wounded sound, slapping a hand over his eyes. “You’re actually killing me saying stuff like that.”

“Should I not talk about how hungry I am?” Tilting his head to the side, Peter blinks his eyes. The movement makes him feel like an owl. The small grin probably gives way that Peter knows  _ exactly _ what Wade is talking about. He might not have been doing it intentionally but Peter has started to clue into how Wade’s mind works. Namely that he will take everything sexually if there is even a hint that it can be.

Peter really wants to see how Wade’s mind works once he stops restraining himself around him. Hopefully sooner rather than later. 

Wade narrows his eyes at Peter. “I’m onto you, and your little dog too.”

“I don’t have a dog.”

“Don’t worry I have lots of stuffed ones we can use for the roleplay. You would look so good in baby blue,” Wade says dreamily. 

“Roleplay?” Peter swallows nervously. Is that something Wade would actually want to do? 

“Oh, yeah, that’s not. We don’t have to do that. Don’t worry about it.” Wade glances away, wringing his hands together in his lap.

“I can try it.” Peter clears his throat and leans in closer to Wade so he can whisper out the next part, doing his best to sound sultry. “I wouldn’t mind. The thought of you dressing me up has an alluring quality to it.” 

Wade lets out a low moan. “Damn, you really are going to be the death of me.”

Not sure how Wade will react to public displays of affection but the need to have Wade cancels out his worries for once. Peter leans in close, slipping a hand into Wade’s hood so that he can grasp at Wade’s neck and pull him down the rest of the way for a kiss. He just means for it to be a quick press of the lips but it ends up being more, so much more as Wade grips the edge of Peter’s jaw so he can tilt Peter’s face ever so slightly and deepen the kiss. Each press of Wade’s lips feels like a promise of more, more, more. Peter answers each one with a very enthusiastic yes, leaning into Wade more with each one. His free hand moves to Wade’s thigh, his fingers curling into the denim of Wade’s jeans.

Just as fast as it started, Peter finds himself being pushed back by a firm hand on his chest. “Don’t think we should show up to dinner with boners.”

Peter’s head spins and he tries to suck some air into his lungs. “We could take care of them before then, I know some good convenience store bathrooms around here.” 

Wade just shakes his head. “No. That’s off the table. That was the deal and you are  _ definitely  _ not having your first time in some dirty bathroom. I can’t even believe you almost let me and-” Wade takes a deep breath.

“It won’t be. It wasn’t. I’m sorry. Come on, let’s just go to dinner.”

Wade gives him a small side look, his face red. “We should wait for Spidey Jr. to calm down first.”

Peter glances down to notice that he does in fact have a boner tenting his pants and squeaks in embarrassment. He quickly draws his knees up to his chest and buries his face in them. He can’t believe he let himself get so carried away but he can’t help the way he reacts to Wade. Every touch sends shivers up his spine. 

“Cockroaches, salad, moldy sandwiches, the fact that there will never be another episode of Golden girls.” 

Peter snorts trying to suppress his laughter. “What are you talking about?”

“Just trying to help you calm down Spidey Jr.”

“You have to stop calling it that. It can’t be a thing.” Peter laughs out, his whole body shaking.

“Why not? It’s perfect! Does it shoot out webbing too?”

Peter’s face twists in disgust. “Of course not.”

Wade shrugs his shoulders. “Just wanted to find out how spidery you get.”

“Wade, I make the web fluids. In a lab. I don’t shoot them from my body.”

“So no webs from your butt either?”

Peter pushes at Wade’s shoulder. “Definitely  _ no _ .”

“Have you even tried?”

“Wade!” Peter yells out, affronted. 

“How’s the boner situation?”

Moving his legs out of the way, Peter takes a sigh of relief when he notices he is no longer tenting his pants. “Looks like I’m in the clear, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, I find it flattering.” Wade grins, standing up from the bench. He stretches out his hand for Peter to take. 

Peter happily clasps onto Wade’s hand, loving the feeling of how engulfs his own. They’ve spent so long not touching each other, it would seem that even the simplest of skin contact threatens to make Peter hard again. It doesn’t bode well for Peter making it through the night with minimal embarrassment. “This bench sucks by the way, I’m only giving it one skittle.”

Wade gasps. “Out of the whole bag?”

“I think my ass fell asleep.”

Even though his leg is mostly healed up from the gunshot wound, it still aches to put pressure on it. He has to shake out his leg to get rid of the feeling. Hopefully it won’t take long to fully heal, he can’t deal with Wade trying to keep him from patrolling. It’s sweet that he doesn’t want Peter to hurt himself worse but Peter feels like he’s going to crawl out of his own skin if he’s forced to sit around for another night. There isn’t even a wound to reopen anymore. 

“There aren’t a lot of places I’m willing to eat without the mask, so hopefully you’re fine with Mexican.”

“Hey, I don’t care where we go just so long as you’re comfortable.”

“Are you sure I didn’t dream you up?” Wade narrows his eyes. “If I hadn’t seen you bleeding I would think you were an android sent to seduce me.”

“I could be a newer model, complete with blood packs for realistic battle damage.”

“Why is that still sexy? The idea of you being built for just me. It would explain so much if it was true.”

Peter’s heart rate picks up, as he licks his lips nervously. “I could still be just for you without being an android.”

“I thought we were trying to show up to the restaurant without stiffies?” Wade scolds, tapping his knuckles lightly across Peter’s nose.

It’s nice to know Wade likes the idea of Peter being his though. Peter can’t help but keep a grin off his face for the rest of the way to the restaurant, which ends up being this little hole in the wall establishment. The inside is long and narrow, the lights dim enough you can just make out where everything is. Peter can see why Wade would feel comfortable here and it breaks his heart. 

Wade directs them to the back, weaving around the tightly packed chairs like an expert. There aren’t lots of other people around, only one of the tables occupied. They settle in the corner, Wade with his back to the wall. Peter settles in across from him. 

“This places seems nice.” Peter glances around the room trying to take in all of the decour, which just seems to be a peculiar assortment of decorations pinned to the wall leaving no view of the actual wall. 

“Yeah, people are allowed to pin up anything they bring back from Mexico. I’ve put up a few myself.”

“Oh, let me try and guess which ones.” Peter says excitedly.

He gets distracted from his search when the server comes over and asks what they’re having. She doesn’t even blink at Wade’s appearance, making it evident that Wade must frequent here often. It shouldn’t hurt that Wade is so comfortable being here without a mask when it took Peter forever to have that privilege and even then only because Wade wanted to make him leave.

Wade orders practically everything off the menu and some sodas to drink. He gives the waitress a charming smile before she leaves and Peter can’t help the jealousy that spikes up inside him at the sight. 

For the first time he gets where Wade was coming from with his hesitancy to start a relationship. Maybe they’ve been through too much heartache to make this work because there is no way Peter will never not be spiteful of anyone that didn’t have to work so hard to get to see that smile. Didn’t have to beg and plead just to get to share a table. 

“What’s wrong, sugar plum?”

“Nothing,” Peter lies. 

“Peter. I can tell something is bothering you. Should we leave or do you want to go by yourself? Was this a bad idea?”

“No!” Peter shouts to loudly, gaining the attention of the other table for a moment. He lowers his voice back down, embarrassed over his outburst. “I just, why did it take so long for you to take off your mask when obviously you’re fine showing people.”

“Peter, that’s not. This place is the exception, not the rule. It took me years of coming here and demanding take out before I first sat down to eat inside. I didn’t want to show you my face because I couldn’t stand the thought of you not liking what you saw. I couldn’t bear the thought of you never wanting to speak to me again.”

“But then you did because you wanted me gone.”

Wade sighs, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, I did do that.”

“Will you do it again?”

“I’m showing you my face right now.”

“No, try to make me leave.”

Leaning back in close, Wade takes Peter’s hand in his own and brings it up to his lips so he can brush a soft kiss across the knuckles. “I don’t want to hurt you ever again. I can’t promise smooth sailing just the I will do everything in my power to make you happy. I’m not going to fight this anymore.”

“I just want to make you happy, too.” Peter grins, feeling relief over the situation. He knows it will take sometime for him not feel jealous or insecure about Wade leaving, but if Wade continues to smile at him like that he might just be able to move past it. 

“You definitely don’t have to worry about that. You make me incredibly happy.” The look Wade gives him is nothing short of predatory as he bites along Peter’s knuckles. 

Peter inhales sharply at the contact. “I thought we were trying not to have boners in the restaurant.” 

“Shit,” Wade curses as he drops Peter’s hand to the table. “Yeah, no touchy. Bad Deadpool.”

“I like it when you touch me.”

“Yeah but touching leads to naughty stuff,” Wade whines. 

Peter just nods his head along like he agrees with the sentiment and not like it might kill him to stop touching Wade. Especially now that he knows Wade enjoys his touch, wants it even. 

Their server brings over their drinks, it’s some pineapple sodas that Peter can’t decide if he likes or not but continues to sip over the awkward silence that has fallen over them. It’s so easy to talk when they’re patrolling, there is always something going on. Peter doesn’t know what to do with this. So he looks around the restaurant and tries to pick out the possible items Wade could have tacked to the walls. There are lots of possibilities, the taco keychains and mini sombreros seem to generic to be something Wade would bring. 

Wade would bring something unique, something you couldn’t duplicate. Something like-

“Are those genuine?” Peter’s voice drops in awe as he points to three small ziplock bags that are pinned to the wall. They don’t look like much, just some rocks and a shell. There are etchings along each of them, faint enough that it’s easy to miss them. 

“Completely, one hundred percent real. You like them?” Wade asks smugly.

“Those are  _ real _ ancient artifacts? The rock looks like a piece of a temple. Where the hell did you get them?”

“They were just laying around.”

“Really?” Peter narrows his eyes and stares down Wade across the table.

“I might have need a crowbar.”

“Wade!” Peter tries to sound disapproving but he’s already laughing at the ridiculousness of it. There are genuine Mayan artifacts pinned to some small time Mexican restaurant and all because Wade wanted to put something  _ cool _ on the wall.”It’s not like anyone would even believe they’re real, so why go through all the trouble?”

Wade shrugs his shoulder. “It wouldn’t be the same if they were knockoffs, then I would run the risk of someone bringing a copy. This way they’re definitely the only ones.”

“I’m sure you could have thought of something involving a little less larceny.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

Peter’s retort dies on his tongue as their server walks over with a tray of food and starts to set plates on the table. He should have paid more attention when Wade was ordering because there is an enormous amount of food in front of them. Tacos, enchiladas, nachos and burritos. There are things Peter doesn’t know the name for. It’s enough food to feed six people, easy. 

“You know what’s going to be awesome about us dating?” Peter says, unable to take his eyes off the amount of food before him. His stomach growls.

“What’s that?” 

“I’m never going to have to pretend to be full around you.” Peter snatches up one of the chips from the nachos, which are so loaded the toppings fall off as he lifts it off the plate. He takes that first bite and simply melts at the taste. “These are so good.”

“If I didn’t absolutely love the food here I would be tempted to just sit back and see if you can eat the whole thing.” Wade pulls one of the plates of tacos towards himself and bites into one of them. Finishing it off in four more quick bites.

It devolves into a bit of a challenge between them after that, as they snatch things off plates the other has in an effort to out eat the other. Peter’s never really tried to see how much or how fast he can really eat but is somehow surprising that Wade can keep up with him when he’s really trying. 

Not being careful as he eats, Peter cuts off a massive bite from the enchiladas and ends up with sauce dribbling down his chin when he tries to shove it all in his mouth. He can’t believe he did something so  _ embarrassing _ on their first date. He goes to quickly brag a napkin but Wade is already leaning across the table and swipes the sauce from Peter’s chin with his forefinger. For one wild moment Peter can’t help but think that Wade is trying to win by stealing his food so before Wade can draw his hand away he captures Wade’s finger in his mouth and sucks. 

He can feel the scars along his tongue, the taste of enchiladas mixed with the sauce from the burrito Wade was eating. This was probably a stupid idea but when he looks across the table to see Wade looking at him like he’s ready to pounce across the table to get at him it emboldens him to suck down harder. Draw his tongue along the length of it. For a brief moment Wade presses in further before giving a reluctant groan and pulling his finger from Peter’s mouth. There is an audible popping sound as Peter tries to keep the digit in his mouth.

“You always make me feel like such a lecherous old man.” 

“You’re not.” Peter frowns.

“How do you know? You’ve never even asked.” 

Peter fidgets in his seat, twirling his fork between his fingers. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Peter, ask how old I am.”

The truth is that Peter doesn’t want to know because he’s scared to know just how much experience Wade has over him. It seems foolish not to know, especially if they are going to keep dating. “How old  _ are  _ you?”

Wade drums his fingers against the table. “Thirty two.”

It’s older than Peter thought and he tries to keep the surprise off his face. “That’s not that old.”

“It’s not that far off from being almost double your age.”

“But it’s  _ not,” _ Peter argues. “It’s going to seem like less and less as the years go by so I don’t see the big deal.”

“Peter,” Wade says with a sigh. “Are you really okay with it?”

“ _ Yes, _ ” Peter hisses out. “Can’t you trust that I want to be here, want to be with you?”

Wade looks down at his hands, running his forefinger along his thumb. “I’m serious about the no sex thing. Are you fine with that?”

“I’ve lasted this long.” 

“What if I’m never comfortable with how young you are? What if it’s something I can’t move past?”

Peter scrunches up his face in confusion. “Even when I’m thirty?”

“You honestly think you can stand me for that long? Gonna be a sweet little virgin that long?”

“I won’t be sweet if you make me wait that long.”

Wade laughs as he shakes his head. “I don’t think you could stop being the sweet little thing you are if you tried.”

“You’re gonna learn just how crabby I can get if you keep that up.” Peter jabs Wade’s shin with the tip of his shoe.

“Eighteen. I think I can handle that, you’ll be out of highschool right?”

“Yeah, I’ll be completely highschool free.”

“That gives us what, six months to figure out if this is going to work between us?”

Peter’s face breaks out in a large grin. “You remember my birthday?”

“Of course I do, my little cucumber.”

Peter makes a buzzer sound. “That one was a weak, try again.”

“My scrumptious strawberry?” Wade tries, batting his eyes.

“I guess it’ll do,” Peter says with a roll of his eyes. 

Picking his fork up, Peter goes back to eating. He manages to down a good portion of the enchiladas before Wade clues in and joins Peter back in the race. When their server comes over to clear the plates she doesn’t even comment on the fact that they managed to clear every single one. Wade must really come here a lot.

Peter tries to argue over not getting to pay at least some of the bill but it’s hard to fight the logic that he doesn’t have a job and Wade has more money then he knows what to do with. 

They walk around after, just pointing out things on the street to each other and making up stories about the people they pass. It’s one of Peter’s favorite nights by far. He never wants it to end. If he could, he would stay with Wade forever. 

Only Wade walks him back to the subway station so he can send Peter home. Peter tugs at the sleeve of Wade’s jacket.

“Was-” Peter takes in a shape inhale- “was I a good date?”

Wade tugs Peter into his chest and wraps his arms around him. “You were the best date. I’m sorry I make you so insecure. I promise I’m not running from this. We’ll go on another one real soon, okay?” Wade presses a quick kiss to the top of Peter’s head. “Go on as many as you want.”

“What if I never want the date to end.” Peter buries his face further into crook of Wade’s necks. It’s warm and perfect and Peter wants to stay there forever. 

“You’ll get sick of me if you do that.”

Peter shakes his head against Wade’s neck. “I could never get sick of you. You’re like ice cream, always delicious.”

“And I go straight to your ass.” 

“How much touching am I allowed to do?”

Wade groans. “You’re going to make this very difficult for me, aren’t you? You keep your hands above the waist and where I can seem them at all times, young man.”

Grinning into the Wade’s neck, Peter lifts his hands up to his sides in a defensive manner. “I can keep my hands to myself.”

“If only you could stop being so  _ cute.” _

“I think you mean handsome, dashing or even sexy stud muffin.”

Wade’s whole body vibrates with suppressed laughter. “Yes I suppose I do, my handsome little cupcake.”

Peter tilts his head so he can glare up at Wade. “You ruined it with the little.”

Wade puffs out his chest and straightens out his spine, drawing himself up to his full height. “Yeah? You don’t like being little?”

Mouth going dry, Peter tries to swallow over the lump that had formed in his throat. “I plead the fifth.” 

“I definitely can’t allow myself to be alone with you anytime soon. Time to head home.”

“Kiss goodnight?” Peter asks, hopeful.

With a tilt to his head, Wade leans in and presses his lips to Peter’s in a simple chaste but lingering kiss. Even then it ends too soon. The day when he can have those lips unrestrained cannot come soon enough. There isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for Wade, so for once he’ll play by the rules.

“Can we go patrolling tomorrow night?”

“It’s a date.” Wade presses one last quick smooch to Peter’s lips before shoving him off towards the subway. 

Peter grins the whole way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They had their date! ❤ What did you think?
> 
> Feel free to pop by and say hi on the [Tumbls](https://thetimidturnip.tumblr.com/)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the last chapter! I hope you've all enjoyed to ride so far. Thanks for sticking with me to the end. Time to earn that rating.

Today is  _ the  _ day. August twenty-seventh. There has been an ongoing countdown to this day for  _ months _ . When people ask why Peter is so excited for his birthday he lies and tells them he can’t wait to vote. No one really buys the excuse but they stop asking when Peter starts to talk about political parties, which is the main point. It’s not really appropriate to bring up that your boyfriend will let you see him naked and have sex for the first time. 

Which Peter has  _ very  _ much been looking forwards to, it’s been hard to reign himself in when Wade nips along the edge of his jaw. Or whenever his grip on Peter’s waist tightens. Everytime he does impossibly sexy things like  _ lift  _ things.  _ Heavy  _ things. Things that make the muscles in his arms tense and his back straighten so that the width of his shoulders becomes even more evident. It’s pretty much a trying time when Wade looks at him from across the room and smiles and somehow Peter has to curb the need to just jump him so he can lick a stripe up his stomach. If he ever gets ahead of himself and attempts to get frisky, Wade will smack Peter’s hand away without fail. 

Peter wasn’t entirely sure he would last until his birthday, there were definitely some nights sitting around with Wade where he thought his balls would turn blue and fall off. After he graduated, Peter did try and convince Wade that there was no need to wait. He wasn’t a highschool student anymore, not that Wade listened. Didn’t like that Peter had heard he had a reputation for being willing to fuck anything that moved. It was one of the few times that they actually fought without one of them running away in the middle. Peter almost started crying when Wade told him he was going to meet someone better in University and just wanted Peter to be able to make a decision then. 

Kissing each tear from Peter’s face, Wade promised he would never leave. Peter promised he wouldn't push. Even if it was hard to remind himself sometimes that Wade wanted to have sex with him, just not  _ right _ now. Peter couldn’t just ignore Wade’s boundaries just because he was older and more experienced. Wade had a real problem with how young Peter was, hence the rule of nothing before turning eighteen. Wade wanted it to be memorable, wanted it to be on a special day.

For Peter any day that he finally got to be with Wade would be special but he relented and let Wade make his secret plans. 

Honestly, Peter’s never been so excited for his birthday before. It was a messy conversation trying to come up with a reason why he couldn’t do anything with Aunt May on the day of his birthday. She definitely suspects there is someone in Peter’s life but that’s an issue for another day. He did succeed in convincing her though but only if he lets her make him breakfast. It’s probably the longest breakfast Peter’s had to sit through, he does his best not to seem impatient because May goes out of her way to make all of Peter’s favorite breakfast items. 

There ends up being wheatcakes, french toast, omelettes, bacon and sausage. She even spends the time to make  _ real _ hollandaise from scratch. It would be rude to scoff it down in a hurry even though Peter has to physically hold himself back from doing so. He spent the entire night thinking over what Wade might have in store for him and it’s a little hard to concentrate on something else. So he eats slowly and tries to pay attention to the conversation enough to make the appropriate comments. He sits for a good ten minutes once his third helping is cleared and politely let’s May finish up what she is talking about before he excuses himself from the table. 

The smirk he gets from his Aunt is a little too knowing for Peter’s liking as she tells him it’s fine for him to get going to whatever secret plans he has. Peter does his best not to skip out of the apartment, sending a quick text to Wade that he’s on his way when he does.

Wanting to get to Wade’s as fast as possible, Peter might cheat and take the roof tops so he can run faster than he would be able to get away with on the street. It’s not the best idea since he’s in his civies, but  _ Wade. _ He drops down to the ground in an alleyway when he gets close enough to the subway station and takes it the rest of the way. He regrets not taking Wade up on his offer of getting Peter a taxi when the man sitting next to him on the subway starts singing, or attempts to sing. It sounds more screeching. The ride doesn’t end soon enough. 

When he finally manages to get to Wade’s apartment building, Peter races up the stairs two at a time. There is a sign on the door with hearts and kisses all along the edges telling Peter to come on in. He wastes no time in doing just that, heart racing as he does. Inside there are rose petals covering the floor in a trail that Peter knows is going to lead to the bedroom. Grinning as he follows the petals, stripping off his shirt as he does. He has to hop to keep moving down the hall as he takes off his pants, almost falling into the wall as he does. 

The sound of music drifts out from under the door, a soft ballad of love. When he pushes open the door, the first thing he notices is the abundance of candles on every surface. The second is that the room is actually clean for once, Peter’s pretty sure Wade went as far as to  _ dust. _ Wade lays on the bed on his stomach, feet crossed behind him in the air. There is a rose clutched in his teeth, though it looks like Wade didn’t think to remove the thorns before hand. Peter can see more of Wade then he’s ever been allowed before, the only thing covering him a red negligee with black lace. It almost seems too perfect of a match to his costume that it wouldn’t be amiss if Wade had it made special. It’s when Peter spots the banner above the bed that he can’t keep his laughter contained. It’s not even that it’s  _ funny, _ just that he can’t believe the situation is real.

Wade snatches the rose from his mouth and tosses it away into a corner of the room. He tugs at the sheets like he wants to pull them up around himself. “Uh, Birthday boy? Too much? I can change, I just thought-”

“No, shit, I’m sorry.” Peter apologizes as he launches himself across the room and onto the bed with Wade. He takes Wade’s face in his hands and smiles down at him. “It’s perfect, you’re perfect. You look amazing. I just wasn’t expecting a banner of all things felt overwhelmed. I didn’t need this much but it means the world to me that you would do this for me.” He lays a series of soft kisses across Wade’s forehead. 

“You don’t get a do over on your first time and it should be  _ so  _ special. You deserve that.” Wade’s hands run up along Peter’s bare thighs, drawing Peter’s attention back to the fact that they are both almost nude. 

Wade slinks up the bed, pushing his hands up further over Peter’s hip. To his stomach and up past his pecs until he reaches Peter’s face and can pull it to his own. Wade licks his way into Peter’s mouth with ease, Peter having long since given up all control to whatever whims Wade had. Wade tastes of mint, like he was chewing on some before Peter came into the room.

Wade grabs Peter by the shoulder and tosses him back onto the bed. Peter bounces as he lands and Wade gives him no time to adjust before he is crawling on top of Peter and straddling his hips. The silk of the negligee pools around Wade’s thighs, Peter can’t help but want to push it up higher and bunch it up around Wade’s waist. He does slip his hand under it only to have Wade smack his hand away.

“Sorry,” Wade says sheepishly, “reflex.”

Annoyed, Peter sticks his tongue out at Wade before attempting again to push the silk up and finds Wade wearing a pair of lace panties underneath. When he takes a proper look below the fabric, he finds that they match the rest of Wade’s outfit. It should be ridiculous on someone of Wade’s stature, only Peter can’t help but groan at the way they bulge around the size of Wade’s cock making it look like they can barely contain it. It’s weirdly hot and not something he’d considered.

“You like it then?” Wade states smugly, rolling his hips. 

Peter’s pretty sure he’s drooling he likes it so much. “Yeah, but then I think you look amazing in everything, so.” 

Wade bends over to give Peter a quick kiss. “I was thinking I would ride you just like this but it’s your first time so I want it to be whatever you want.”

Pushing himself up onto his elbows, Peter looks at Wade in confusion. “You don’t want to fuck me?”

“Uh, of course I do? What sort of question is that?” Wade rolls his eyes. “That usually hurts the first time and I don’t want your first time to be about that.”

It should have been something Peter considered but it’s weird how many of his fantasies involve Wade bending him over any available surface and just  _ taking _ . The idea of Wade riding on top of Peter and just taking his pleasure from Peter has its own merits. Ones that Peter can not deny have their appeal.

“I need to stretch you right? We need um-” Peter blushes and clears his throat. “We need lube, so I can do that. To you.”

“Oh sweety,” Wade coos as he leans in close. “You did your research, but I already prepped everything for you.”

Peter pouts. “You didn’t have to do that. I wanted to experience every part of this.”

“We can just get to the good stuff faster this way.” Wade presses forward for a kiss, nipping at Peter’s bottom lip. He tugs at Peter’s boxers, pulling them lower.

Peter has to cant his hips forward so Wade can tug them the rest of the way down. Peter kicks them off when they get low enough, he has to twist around underneath Wade to make it work. With them finally off, Wade sits back far enough so he can inspect all of Peter. It makes Peter squirm. 

“You look so damn good.” Licking his lips, Wade runs a finger from just under Peter’s balls to the tip his cock. 

It has Peter arching off the bed, a low groan escaping him. He’s been waiting for Wade to touch him like that since the day he met the man. “Wade, I wanna see you too.”

“Yeah, we can do that,” Wade says with a laugh. He lifts himself up onto his knees and shimmies out of the panties, Peter has to lean forward and lift the edge of the negligee to finally get a view of Wade’s cock. It was definitely worth the wait, it fills just about every fantasy Peter has ever has about it. Uncut, large and wide. It’s questionable if he would be able to get his fingers to circle around it with one hand and he forgets for one wild moment that he can  _ actually  _ do just that. So he does, wrapping his hand around the width of it. He can’t get his thumb and index finger to touch and is suddenly grateful that Wade hadn’t wanted Peter to try and fit that inside himself. It’s going to take a bit of work for Peter to work his way up to such a size but one day it’s  _ definitely  _ going to happen. There is no way Peter will not let it.

Wade lets out a low groan, bucking into Peter's fist. "Don't get too carried away, just let me grab something." Twisting from his position atop of Peter, Wade stretches across the bed and grabs something from the nightstand. 

Wade drops a bottle of lube onto the bed beside Peter. He has a condom package in one hand and uses his teeth to rip a tear in the corner. Peter can't help but think it's just for show since Wade has both hands free but still it's weirdly hot to watch. 

Wade shifts back on Peter's lap so he has a perfect view of Peter's cock. He pulls the condom from the wrapper and slowly rolls it down Peter's length. It's cool to the touch, the heat of Wade's fingers burning through it. It takes everything in Peter to not buck up into Wade’s grip. Grinning, Wade runs his hand along the length of his dick a few times once the condom is in place.

"Wade," Peter moans out, "I don't think I'm gonna last long."

Wade lets out a low chuckle. "To think I thought you wouldn't even get hard for me. Come as soon as you want."

" _ Wade,"  _ Peter scolds. "Of course I would."

"I know, I know. Blah, blah I'm so attractive. You ready to lose your V-card?"

"If I don't lose it today, there is going to be a  _ riot. _ " Peter growls out, rolling his hips up.

Wade laughs as he snatches up the bottle of lube from the bed and squirts a large dollop onto his fingers. He spreads it around on his fingers before spreading it over the condom. 

Going up onto his knees, Wade takes hold of Peter and positions him before slowly sinking down. That first moment where Peter pushes into that tight heat is a moment he will remember forever. Wade lets out a guttural moan as he rocks down the rest of the way. Peter’s fingers twitch, he grabs onto Wade’s hips to help ground himself. His head spins, Wade is so tight around him. It's overwhelming. There isn’t even time to adjust to the feeling before Wade is pulling off and slamming his hips back down, making Peter gasp. Wade leans forwards to capture Peter’s lips in a kiss that Peter can’t find the coordination to participate in. Small whimpers escape into Wade’s mouth as Peter’s hips try to follow Wade’s with every movement. Wade’s fingers are in his hair, tilting Peter’s head back so Wade can kiss along Peter’s jaw. The way Wade’s hips move is sinful, Peter can hear the sound of their skin slapping together. 

His feet are scrambling against the bed, toes curling. One of Wade’s hands is running down Peter’s chest, stopping to pinch and roll one of Peter’s nipples between his fingers. 

“You feel amazing, Peter.” Wade whispers out along Peter’s jaw. 

It’s the last straw for Peter, he pushes up one last time into Wade before coming. He’s gasping for air as Wade slows his movements and wrings the last of Peter’s pleasure from him. Wade reaches behind himself to hold onto the base of the condom before pulling off. Peter whimpers at the loss. He throws an arm over his face feeling embarrassed about how quickly that went. 

He can feel Wade pinch at the tip of the condom and pull it off. The weight on the bed shifts as Wade gets up from it, presumably to dispose of the condom. It only takes a few seconds before the bed dips back down letting Peter know Wade has returned but he doesn’t shift any closer. 

Wade’s sounds small when he asks, “was it alright for your first time?”

Peter shoots up to a sitting position. “It was perfect! It was amazing.” Peter scrambles across the bed to where Wade is sitting on the end of it and throws his arms around Wade’s shoulders. His torso pressed firmly against Wade’s back as he presses small kisses along the back of Wade’s neck and mumbles out his words against Wade’s skin. “I came too fast.”

Wade twists around and wraps his arms around Peter. “I can’t believe you actually came and that fast? You’re just feeding my ego, love dove.”

It’s shouldn’t be funny but Peter finds himself cracking up anyways. Wade would take it as a compliment. “I want to make you come too, though. I want to-” Peter clears his throat- “can I try giving you a blow job?”

“You wanna gobble my burrito?” 

Peter rolls his eyes. “Not if you say it like that I don’t.” 

Wishing he was a little more coordinated, Peter rolls off the bed to the floor and shuffles in between Wade’s thighs. He places his hands on each of Wade’s knees and pushes them further apart, not missing the way Wade shivers at the touch. Licking his lips, Peter runs his hands further up Wade’s thighs until they rest just below his hip bone. It seems so amateurish to need to ask what to do next but Peter can’t help but wish that Wade would direct him through this. It’s like he forgot every piece of advice he bothered to research. The glance he quickly gives Wade must convey some of his need because Wade takes pity on him and shifts forward on the bed ever so slightly so Peter has better access. 

“Take it in your hand and just start at the tip. You’re not getting the whole thing in your mouth today so work what you can’t handle with your hands. Just don’t bite me and you’ll do fine.” Wade coaches as he runs his fingers through Peter’s hair.

Peter nods his understanding before wrapping a hand around the base of Wade’s cock. Yeah, he’s definitely not fitting all of that down his throat. Using his other hand to steady himself on Wade’s thigh, Peter leans in and takes the head of Wade’s cock in his mouth. Just trying to fit the width of into his mouth has Peter stretching his jaw to the point where it aches. There is a moment where he thinks the corners of his mouth are going to tear, that he can't do this, but somehow he manages to wrap his straining lips around it. He gives a tentative suck that leaves a bitter taste across his tongue. The sounds Wade makes are more than encouraging, so Peter does it again, trying to push more of Wade into his mouth.

It’s harder than he thought it would be to remember to breath through his nose, especially with how he is trying to concentrate on taking more of Wade into his mouth beyond just the tip. It takes a surprising amount of coordination to remember that he should be doing something with his hands as well and as soon as he starts to find a rhythm he realizes he isn't breathing. He pulls back with a gasp and let’s go of Wade long enough to wipe the drool from the corner.

“Fuck, don’t wipe it away. I wanna see you drool for me, sugar lips. Wanna see how messy you get taking my cock in your mouth.” 

The words have Peter moaning around Wade, which draws one from Wade and has him pushing further into Peter’s mouth. 

“How much of me can you take before you start choking? Huh? I feel like testing it out, tugging your head back and just pushing as far as I can into that tight little throat of yours.”

That shouldn’t sound as appealing as it does but Peter can’t help but visualize the way he would do such a thing. Would Wade actually do that if Peter asked? He’s always been so hesitant with Peter, except for that first time they met where he was all confidence. Peter wants that. Wants for Wade to feel comfortable asking Peter to do every little dirty thing he can think of. He pulls back, his lips popping off the end in a noticeable pop. 

“I want you to do that.”

Wade blinks down at Peter. “Do what?”

“What you said just now. I want you to do that. Let’s see how much I can take.” 

“I said those things outloud? Let’s just go at your pace. That’s not-”

“If you say first time material I’m gonna scream.” Peter pinches at Wade’s thigh making the man yelp. “Come on, I want you to tug my hair and push into my throat. I’ll keep my hands on your thighs so you can feel me tap out okay? That’s the protocol, right?”

“What sort of things have you been reading?” Wade narrows his eyes at Peter but moves his hands into Peter’s hair all the same.

Peter grins wide. “You’re just gonna have to find out.” Peter shifts a little so it’ll be easier to tilt his head back and places his palms on each of Wade’s thighs. There are tips he’s read on how to relax your throat for this, but until this moment it’s all been theoretical. 

“Nerd,” Wade laughs out. “Just keep yourself relaxed, I’m going to go slow and remember to breath.” 

The back of Peter’s hair is tugged and Peter follows along with the prompt so his head is tilted back slightly and relaxes his tongue out past his lips as he opens his mouth wide. That first moment where Wade pushes into Peter’s mouth has him shaking. His jaw already aches and it’s frightening the way he has to stretch his jaw to accommodate Wade further inside. Wade doesn’t stop, he pushes slowly further past the measly point Peter had reached before. Peter can feel the top pushing along his pallet and he does his best to let his jaw relax further. Drool is pooling in his mouth and will start dripping from the corners any second.

He tries to swallow but feels his throat working around nothing. The grip on his hair tightens as Wade groans above him. 

“You look so good like this, down on your knees working so hard to swallow me down. I want to just keep you like this forever. You’re gonna be able to fit all of me down your throat one day and I’m just going to stay like that and watch you choke on me for hours.” Wade sounds wrecked, his breathing erratic.

Those words send a jolt through Peter, making his cock swell back to hardness between his legs. Wade is pushing in so slowly but once he reaches the back of Peter’s throat he stops even though he isn’t all the way in. Peter can’t help that way he starts to gag at the sensation of Wade so far back in his mouth, Wade pulls back slightly. Guess they know how much Peter can take now. Wade uses his free hand to wipe at the tears pooling in the corner of Peter’s eyes. He pulls out with the same care that he pushed in with before rocking back in faster. He does this again and again, wiping the fresh tears away each time. 

“I’m gonna make you bawl the first time I get you to take all of me. Big fat ugly tears and you’re going to love every minute of it. Love how sore I’m going to make you.”

Peter wants to nod his head but the hold Wade has on his hair keeps him firmly in place so he just ends up moaning out what he hopes is an encouraging sound. Wade seems to get the message if the way his hips picks up speed is any indication. 

“Peter, I’m going to come on your face. If you don’t want that to happen just tap out okay?” 

He wonders if that is something that he would like to have happen, the only real way to know is to let it happen. So Peter tightens his grip on Wade’s thigh and holds on for the ride. 

“I don’t know how I deserve someone like you. You’re gonna look so good. So good. Fuck, I just want to mess you up so bad.” Wade pulls back on Peter’s hair, pulling Peter off. He swipes at the last of Peter’s tears before using the same hand to finish himself off. He makes a small gasp before coming.

Wade’s come hits Peter’s cheek first, then along his lower lip and chin. It’s warm and dribbles down along Peter’s face where it lands. Wade lets out a low groan and takes Peter’s face in both hands and uses his thumbs to smear his release across Peter’s skin. He pushes the bit that landed on Peter’s lip into Peter’s mouth. Peter wraps his lips around Wade’s thumb and sucks off the bitter taste. He can’t say that he enjoyed having Wade’s come on his face but the way that Wade reacts to it has him sure that he’ll let Wade come anywhere he wants on his body.

His jaw aches when he tries to move it, he works his mouth open and closed a few times just to test how badly it is.

“How’re you feeling, want to take a shower and get cleaned up?” Wade says with a tilt to his head. 

“You get it dirty, you clean it up. You’d better be joining me in that shower.”

Wade smirks as he hooks his arms under Peter’s armpits and lifts him up off the floor. When Wade has Peter in his arms, his gaze is drawn immediately to where Peter’s cock is hard and flush up against his belly. 

He seems in a daze as he says, “is that from sucking me off?”

“It’s from the color of your walls.”  _ Was he not supposed to enjoy it? _ Blushing, Peter goes to cover his erection with his hands but Wade snatches them before they can accomplish it. 

“No, don’t cover that up. I wanna see.” Wade whines.

“I don’t know how you can still act surprised that I find you attractive.” 

“You can say all the sweet words you want, it’s different in practice.” 

“Wade,” Peter says as he takes Wade face in his hands and forces him to look into Peter’s eyes. “I really liked your cock in my mouth. I find you really hot and my dick is really hard right now and would love some attention.”

The sound of Wade’s laughter is rich in Peter’s ears. Wade wastes no time in lifting Peter up higher and directing Peter to wrap his legs around Wade’s waist. “I’ve got something I’ve been waiting to do since the day I met you, sugar lump.”

Peter bounces with every step Wade takes, he tightens his hold around Wade’s neck. It doesn’t occur to him where Wade could be taking him until his back is slammed against a wall and Wade directs Peter’s arms above his head. Hands to the wall.

“Oh,” Peter gasps out.

“You’re fine holding yourself up with your hands?” Wade asks.

“Wade, I can hold myself up with my fingertips. This is nothing.”

“I just want to make sure you don’t need to concentrate to stay sticky because I’m about to get  _ really  _ distracting.”

Any trepidation he feels, Peter swallows in an audible gulp. He double checks his hold on the wall and nods for Wade to continue. 

“Fuck, you’re hot. Look at you all stretched out for me.” 

Before Peter can get a word in, Wade presses in close and captures Peter’s lips with his own. It’s not something Peter thinks he will ever get enough of, even with everything they’ve done so far today just that kiss has Peter’s head spinning. There’s just something about the way Wade kisses that makes Peter feel like a man possessed. 

He’s only distantly aware of the sound of a cap being removed and only clues in when he feels Wade’s fingers brush along the flesh of his ass. Then they’re rubbing at his hole and it’s like an electric shock to his system. He can’t help but flinch away, not expecting the touch. 

“Sorry, sorry, I just thought. I should have. Fuck, we can stop?” Wade says in a hurry, his face scrunched up in worry.

“It was cold.” Peter breathes out with a laugh. “You can do it again. Yeah. Do it again.”

“Oh,” Wade says with a chuckle. He rests his forehead on Peter’s shoulder. “Still, I got carried away.” 

“Wade, touch me. I want it.” 

It takes another second for Wade to return his fingers, he rubs in small circles along Peter’s rim. “Can I press a finger inside?”

The feeling of Wade’s fingers circling his hole is maddening in a way Peter didn’t know existed. He’s never bothered to tease himself like this, anytime he’s done it to himself it’s been purely to see what it felt like to have something  _ inside. _ It’s strange how pleasurable the feeling is but also how it makes Peter  _ ache _ to have that finger inside. Every touch has just enough pressure to make it feel like it’s about to push inside. “Yes, yes, fuck you can definitely use a finger.”

“I love how whiney you get, you do realise your voice goes up a pitch when you start to get desperate? You get that way just from a kiss, it’s made it really hard for me to stick to my plan.” Wade growls out the words, biting along the length of Peter’s neck as he does. Once he gets to Peter’s clavicle, he sucks a bruise into the spot and uses the moment he has Peter distracted to slip the tip of his finger past the tight ring of muscles of Peter’s ass. The combined sensation has Peter arching his back off from the wall.

“ _ Wade, _ ” Peter gasps. He can feel Wade smile against his neck. “ _ More. Wade, more. _ ”

“Yeah, knew you’re voice could go higher. Just had to press the right buttons.” Wade pulls his finger a little out before pressing back in, deeper. He repeats this process again and again. “I wanna hear you sing, cupcake. Wanna hear you chant my name like that all the time.”

The next press of Wade’s finger is to the knuckle and Peter can feel the way his finger presses inside him, searching. Then Peter is singing just like Wade wants, a string of gibberish as Wade keeps rubbing that spot inside Peter. It’s too much and not enough all at once. He needs something. More. Harder. 

“ _ Wade. Wade. Wade.” _

Wade makes a gentle shushing sounds. “I know, sweetums. I know.”

Is it always supposed to feel this good? It sure didn’t when Peter did it to himself. Wade is rearranging them, lining their cocks up together. It occurs to Peter that he really is hanging from the wall, none of his weight supported by Wade as Wade does whatever he pleases to Peter’s body. Wade wraps a hand around both of their cocks and it’s just what Peter needs. He sobs out his gratitude and tries to use his legs wrapped around Wade’s waist to rock into the friction. It becomes a futile act as Wade quickly takes over the pace of the movements. He presses his finger further in just as he snaps his hips up into Peter’s. 

Toes curling against Wade’s back, Peter’s vision blurs as Wade pushes his fingers back to that spot and just  _ rubs _ . The grip on his cock tightens and it’s suddenly too much for him to handle. Peter comes with a sob that has tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. He feels his body relax before he notices himself sliding down the wall. Wade’s arms wrap around Peter’s waist before he has a chance to fall. They slide down to the floor together, Peter tucked firmly against Wade’s chest. 

It takes a moment of Wade patting around on the floor behind himself before he is able to locate the bottle of lube he dropped earlier. The sound of the cap opening sends a shiver down Peter’s spine and he wonders how long it takes to get a pavlovian response to a sound. He’s definitely going to develop one if this keeps up, maybe he can convince Wade to buy a bottle with a pump? 

“Alright, shortcake. I’m gonna slick up my dick and thrust between your cheeks. I’m not gonna enter you, promise. Just gonna squeeze those big bubbles of yours nice and tight. If that’s okay, I mean?” Wade’s already got a hand slicking himself up as he says those things. Like he honestly doesn’t think Peter will say no.

Which he would never do. He wants to feel Wade everywhere. Wants him to do everything. So he lifts himself up slightly to on knees so Wade has enough room to maneuver himself to where he wants to go. Peter wraps his arms around Wade’s neck and buries his face there. He can feel the wet spot from his come on Wade’s negligee pressed against his stomach. It’s somehow both arousing and disgusting at the same time.

His ass is squeezed together by each of Wade’s hands. His fingers kneading the flesh in a way that makes Peter whimper and rock into his hold. Then Wade’s cock is sliding along past Peter’s balls, along the skin of his perineum and between his cheeks. The way he is being squished together means he feels all of Wade. Every inch. The tip of his cock brushes past Peter’s hole and he can feel it twitch at the thought of Wade angling his hips just a little differently so he can push inside. But Wade said not today. Instead, he picks up a quick pace of sliding between Peter’s cheeks. 

“It’s like your ass was made for this, fuck. You feel so tight.” Wade groans, snapping his hips forward harder than before. “It’s all I can think about everytime I see it. That perfect little perky ass just asking to be fucked. You have no idea. No idea the things I’m gonna do.”

“I’ve got a pretty good imagination,” Peter whispers out as he mouths along the edge of Wade’s jaw. “Think about how you’d stretch me open so wide. How you’d keep me like that for hours. How full I’m going to feel when you finally push into me.”

His thrusts turn erratic and short. Peter can feel the the way Wade pulses his release between his cheeks, he doesn’t stop though and fucks it along Peter’s hole. Making the whole thing that much slicker. 

It takes a moment for Wade to catch his breath, then he noses along Peter’s face until he has Peter’s lips on his own. He licks into Peter’s mouth with the sort of fervor that you would expect from a dying man. 

“I should really get you into that shower now,” Wade says sheepishly. 

Peter wipes at the dried semen on his face, and laughs. “Yeah a shower might be a good idea.”

Peter goes to stand up but Wade just tightens his hold around him and stands up with Peter wrapped around his body. 

“I can walk,” Peter scolds. 

“Let me carry my little princess.”

“Prince.”

Wade’s grin isn't very comforting. “Sure, whatever you say.”

Wade kicks the door to the bathroom open and sets Peter down on the lid of the toilet. He spends a few minutes adjusting the temperature of the water before turning back to Peter with a grin. He gives a small bow as he motions to the shower. “After you my prince.”

What a wise guy, Peter can’t help but be amused though. Can’t believe he finally got here with Wade, no longer a virgin. Feeling content and saited, for the time being anyways. He’s hoping Wade will want to try out a few more things before the day is over.

“Why thank-you.” Peter gives Wade a quick peck on the cheek as he passes by and moves the shower curtain to the side so he can slip inside. 

The water is perfectly warm, Peter immediately closes his eyes and dips his face into the spray. He opens his mouth and gargles some of the water before grabbing the bar of soap and scrubbing at the dried cum on his skin. Once the adrenaline runs out it only becomes gross. Peter manages to scrub at his entire body before he starts to get concerned about Wade not having joined him yet. 

“Wade, aren’t you coming in? He sticks his head out past the shower curtain to find Wade sitting on the toilet seat, his head in his hands. He looks morose and the sight breaks Peter’s heart. He repeats himself a little unsure. “Wade?”

“Uh, sorry pumpkin.” Wade looks up with a small smile. “Just got lost in my own head. Nothing to worry about. I’m coming.” 

Peter watches him stand and shrug off the stained negligee onto the floor, the silk pooling around his feet. He steps into the shower, taking up most of the room. 

His heart beating in his throat, he struggles to find the words he wants to say. Peter timidly ask, “did I push you too far?”

Wade’s face scrunches up in confusion, he smooths a hand along the side of Peter’s face. “I’m the one that should be asking that. I should have waited longer.”

Peter scoffs. “Longer? Wade I don’t think I  _ could _ have waited longer.” 

“Yeah, but I feel like a dam has broken inside me and I don’t think I’m going to be able to stop now. I’m going to take things too far and you’re just-”

“If you say too young I’m going to punch you. I swear.” Peter huffs and pushes lightly at Wade’s shoulder. 

Wade laughs at the shove. “I can’t help how I feel.”

“Look,” Peter says with a sigh. He pushes his hair back, water drops flying everywhere. “If you ever push me to far I’ll stop you. It’s not like you can overpower me or anything.”

“Do you really think you could stop me?” 

Peter arches an eyebrow at Wade and steps closer to him. He hooks his arms just under Wade’s ass and lifts him up with ease. “This is nothing for me, if anything you should be worried about me. I’m a horny eighteen year-old with a super hot boyfriend who’s finally let me get into his pants. I’m going to be jumping your bones all the time.”

Wade’s laughter is loud and booming, echoing off the bathroom tiles. He wiggles around in Peter’s grip. “Look at my boyfriend, so strong and manly. Wanting my body all the time, acting all bossy.”

The words leave Peter feeling embarrassed, he only lifts Wade higher up in his arms, wanting to show off a little more. “Don’t you forget it. I’m all man, can vote and everything now. Watch out world.”

“Peter, I’m sorry for having doubts. You’re just the best thing to happen to me and-” Wade’s voice trails off.

“I know you don’t feel like it, but you’re the best thing to have happened to me too. I’ll do my best to prove that to you everyday.” Peter places a tender kiss along Wade’s ribs before lowering Wade back down.

The stay in the shower until the water runs cold, Wade unwilling to leave until he was certain every last part of Peter was washed twice. The way he runs the cloth over Peter’s skin could be called nothing less than worship. 

They don’t even bother to get dressed, moving into the kitchen with towels wrapped around their waists so Wade can show off the cake he got for Peter. It’s bigger than the one from last year and Peter’s not sure how Wade can think he can possibly eat the whole thing. He’s proven wrong though when they finish off the last few bites just after midnight while they’re drying off from their third shower of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ❤❤❤ Was it everything you dreamed it would be? 
> 
> I'm on the hell site know as [Tumblr](https://thetimidturnip.tumblr.com/)


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